


take me all the way down

by sleepylouis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Harry, CEO AU, Louis is jaded, Shameless Smut, Top Louis, harry is a nineteen year old ceo, harry is overly happy, louis drinks too much coffee, louis is a twenty four year old stockbroker, louis tomlinson is successful, niall is his sidekick, shameless fluff, somehow they fall in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 18:48:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 69,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2783921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepylouis/pseuds/sleepylouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles is young, successful, and positively dangerous.</p><p>Mark Tomlinson decides he has to go. Louis Tomlinson is just the man for the job.</p><p>- or -</p><p>The CEO AU where success is all Louis Tomlinson has known--until Harry Styles comes into his life, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take me all the way down

**Author's Note:**

> three months and i am finally done and i don't really know how to feel about this
> 
> any mistakes will be fished out and fixed yay
> 
> for maria my fish emoji my wheelchair emoji i love u as always + thank u for always being there :')

_"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,_

_And sorry I could not travel both_

_And be one traveler, long I stood_

_And looked down one as far as I could_

_To where it bent in the undergrowth"_

. . .

_"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—_

_I took the one less traveled by,_

_And that has made all the difference."_

_\- Robert Frost, 'The Road Not Taken'_

 

* * *

 

 

 

Growing up in a world where everything is a _lie_ has changed Louis, it really has.

 

His father says that's the beauty of the business world. The slyness, the cunning cleverness it takes to move through the social circles and climb the latter of success, it's a wicked game. Schemes and underhanded tricks and deceitful hoaxes hide behind every smile, every handshake, every cordial word. It's all _fake,_ all _artificial,_ and Louis swears he's going _mad_ with it all.

 

He's lived in this world of falsehood for _twenty-four_ years.

 

Of course, it isn't all _bad._ Louis is extremely wealthy. He lives in a penthouse in upper London. He drives a Porsche. He's got a television the size of a king-sized bed. He goes to sleep with the city below him and wakes to the sun streaking onto his duvet. Louis has never worn clothing that's not name-brand, he's never _wanted_ anything, and he never lacks good entertainment. Louis has traveled the world, met famous people, and learned what _success_ means all before his twenty-fifth birthday.

 

It's all impressive, Louis supposes, but he doesn't really _feel_ impressive.

 

His parents are extraordinarily proud of him. Louis is their crowning jewel, their shining accomplishment. He embodies everything they strive to be, and the fact he turned out to be so _successful_ is one of their greatest achievements. Louis is _all_ promise and Mark can do nothing but show off his son to the world.

 

After all, Louis' father is the CEO of a multimillion dollar company, and Louis is his oldest heir.

 

( _Except Louis is not happy.)_

He has everything _anyone_ could want, and he's not satisfied. _Money can't buy happiness._ Louis has learned the truth of that statement the hard way.

 

Louis thinks maybe he's lonelier than he'd like to admit. Ever since he turned twenty-one and his life took off, Louis hasn't had time for friends or recreation because his job is his _fun._ Louis hasn't even had time to start looking for someone to settle down with, and Louis sorely misses that part of himself that he hasn't found.

 

He would trade _all_ of this for someone he could call the love of his life.

 

But that's minuscule in the scheme of things, Louis supposes. He's twenty-four and he's got the world in his hands.

 

And, as his father says, _don't worry about it._

Why? _Because Louis is successful._

 

So really, how _important_ is Louis' happiness?

 

_Irrelevant._

 

[*]

__

 

Thursday morning starts off like any other.

 

Louis needs about three cups of straight black coffee before he feels halfway human. The secretary, Eleanor, tells him that's he's working himself too hard. She says he's got circles under his eyes and that he's got stress wrinkles and he never really smiles anymore. Louis waves it off as nonsense. He's not _stressed._ Stress is for people who don't have their life organized and therefore have a reason to be worried. Louis works a lot, yeah, and maybe the four hours of sleep he gets per night don't help his appearance, but his face doesn't sell stock _so._

He'll keep getting four hours of sleep and drinking three cups of caffeine daily.

 

Louis flicks the light on, sipping his coffee. He's greeted with the sight of his cluttered office and the glowing monitor of his computer screen. He didn't turn it off after last night's shift, which is a bad habit, but Louis was _exhausted._ He hasn't cleaned his disaster-of-an-office in a week. Louis almost wants to ask the understudy to do it for him, but that would be a _tad_ pretentious, even for him. People would definitely judge him for it.

 

Louis sighs and runs a hand down his face. He didn't shower this morning. His suit is wrinkled and his hair is tousled. Louis' shoes are smudged and his office is messy.

 

Maybe he _really_ is losing it.

 

"Louis?" There’s a knock on the door, and then a pair of bright blue eyes peep into the room. Louis startles, exhales deeply, and beckons the blonde kid in.

 

Niall, his new assistant, is round-faced with pink cheeks and the bluest eyes Louis has ever seen. He's got dyed blonde hair and a nice laugh. The girls give him looks when he passes in the office and Louis knows they probably giggle about his vaguely Irish accent behind his back. He's likable and cute in his own way. Still, Niall's a good enough sort and he's cheery. Louis can safely say he likes him.

 

"Morning, Niall," Louis sips his coffee and leans back in his chair. "What's today's agenda?"

 

"Well," Niall flips through his book, his eyebrows furrowed. "Mr. Tomlinson has cancelled all of your events for today. He says he wants to meet with you as soon as he comes in."

 

"What?" Louis leans forward and squints from behind his glasses. " _You're joking."_

"I don't know," Niall shrugs. "I just tell you what he says."

 

"That's _odd,"_ Louis murmurs, rubbing his jaw. He hasn't shaved in nearly two days, and it's starting to show. "There's a lot going on with that acquisition of the oil company in the works, and the fact Mark canceled my events in the midst of it is very strange. _Hm."_

"It's like a day off," Niall grins. "Embrace it. You need it."

 

" _Everyone says that,"_ Louis rolls his eyes and starts packing up his folders. "I don't get it. I'm _fine."_

"When's the last time you went out for drinks?"

 

"Uh," Louis is thrown off guard. He considers the question, and the frustrating lack of answers irritates him. "Well. That's unfair, Niall. It doesn't prove anything."

 

"Whatever you say, boss man," Niall grins and takes Louis' empty coffee mug. "I'm off on a coffee run."

 

Louis sighs in exasperation and Niall gives him a wink as he bounces out of the office.

 

Niall really is a good sort. Too bad there aren't more like him in the company.

 

Being the son of the CEO has subjected Louis to a lot of talk. People say he's only in his position because he's Mark's bloodline, because he's a _daddy's boy,_ because Mark is foolish. It makes sense for them to criticize, of course, if Louis was _bad_ at his job. But he's not. He's half their age _and_ he's better than they'll be _and_ he's only been employed here for three years.

 

So Louis lets them run their mouths.

 

He knows there's one bloke in particular-- _Nick Grimshaw--_ who's especially out to sabotage Louis and Louis knows he has to be careful around him. He's a slippery sort, and Louis is always wary around him. He smiles like he knows something and it's unnerving.

 

Louis shuffles through his folders with a heavy sigh.

 

But something catches his eye as he puts the papers away, and Louis is momentarily distracted. A quick read-over tells him it's the financial report he wrote up when the acquisition of the oil company was in the works. Louis runs his fingers over the ink and sighs. He was really invested in this project _and_ his father was going to let him head the deal. It would've been his first acquisition done by himself, and Louis is a tad _bitter_ his father stole that from him. Louis has been itching to prove himself ever since he overheard Grimshaw's group talking shit about him.

 

W _hatever._ Louis can't think of anything more important his father would have for him, but _whatever._  

 

He shreds the paper just as Niall walks in with his coffee.

 

"You know, Louis," he says as he hands him a steaming mug. "You're coming out for drinks on Friday. You and me and a couple of my mates. Bring some of yours. It'll be a laugh."

 

"Friday..." Louis takes a grateful gulp of the coffee. "Hm... I know there's something going on then, I just can't think--"

 

" _No,"_ Niall rolls his eyes. "You need to get out. You're going to turn grey before you're thirty, Louis. And if you don't get a move on in the romance department, you'll be an old maid too!"

 

"A maid is a _woman,_ Niall," Louis corrects him wearily. "And _no,_ I won't. But drinks sound nice. If I'm not busy, I'll drop by."

 

"Which you won't be."

 

" _Who_ says?"

 

" _I say."_

Louis digresses. Niall looks far too smug for his own good.

 

The pair of them get to work as they usually would on any other day. Niall is organizing an itinerary for the corporate trip to Japan, and Louis is cleaning off files from his computer. The only sound between them is the click of keys and the ruffling of paper and Louis' occasional sip of coffee.

 

Still, it's busy work and Louis doesn't like it at all. He sorely misses the acquisition he was working on. It has been his heart and soul for the past three weeks, and now he feels empty without it. Today was supposed to be the day he tied up loose ends and started the negotiating side of things, _but._ Louis is bitter, he really is, and he soon gives up trying to distract himself from that plain fact.

 

"When is Mark going to be in?" Louis demands, probably a little too rudely. He can't _help_ it; he's extremely frustrated with the whole _no work_ thing.

 

"Within the next twenty minutes or so," Niall murmurs, his eyes glued to the paper in front of him. "Why?"

 

"I want the project back," Louis grumbles. "I didn't come to work just to _sit_ and let trash like Grimshaw run his mouth about me. How do you think this looks to them, hm? The sudden removal of me from the head of this project?"

 

Niall sighs and closes his notebook.

 

"It probably doesn't look great, you're right," he shrugs. "But Mr. Tomlinson probably has something more important for you to do. There's no other reason why he would come in so early and request a meeting with you first thing. He even cancelled all of his scheduled events."

 

" _Huh."_ Now Louis is _really_ thrown off. Mark never cancels anything, whether he's sick or tired, rain or shine, bad day or not. "This is so odd, Niall. I don't even know where to begin."

 

"Dunno either," Niall says dismissively. There's a hint of resignation in his voice.  "I'm just the assistant."

 

He sounds down and Louis picks up on the cue.

 

"You're _not._ You're a lifesaver, you are," Louis gives him a light shove. "Plus you're one of my mates. _And_ the girls always give you the eye, Niall. Barbara, the stockbroker on fifth floor, has a thing for you. _That's_ who you should be inviting to drinks, not me."

 

"Whatever," Niall tries to play it off, but his eyes do shine a little brighter. "Barbara is _so_ fit though. I'd lie if I said I haven't had a few wanks over her."

 

" _Niall."_

_"_ You brought it up," Niall shrugs unapologetically. "And really, Louis. There has to be at least _one_ bird you think is fit here, even if you don't talk about it. This place is _teeming_ with them. You could have your pick."

 

Louis hesitates. Niall waits expectantly.

 

"Uh, Eleanor's quite nice-looking," he says uncertainly. "Nice er--hair. She's got nice hair."

 

" _Hair?"_ Niall snorts. "That's what you look for in girls. _Their hair."_

 

"I'm not a hormonal pig like you," Louis says defensively. "I believe there's more to women than their--as you so eloquently put it-- _tits and ass."_

Niall laughs and the tension diffuses a bit, much to Louis' relief. The typical _dude_ conversations stress him out like nothing else, but he's gotten good at blending in. No one assumes anything, including Niall.

 

Louis is a specialist at hiding things. It's second nature in a world like his.

 

-

 

After another cup of coffee-- _Louis' fifth--_ he comes to the conclusion that a) he drinks _way_ too much caffeine and b) he has a wonder bladder. Niall looks amazed as he watches Louis finish the last cup.

 

"It's a wonder you don't have hair sprouting from your chest," Niall grumbles. "If I drank coffee that strong, I would be caffeinated for days."

 

"Yeah, well," Louis says dismissively, checking his watch. "You do what you must to stay functioning. Should I go down to Mark's office now?"

 

"He's just gotten here," Niall shrugs. "But go ahead. He's probably going to call for you any minute anyway."

 

Louis nods and fixes his blazer in the reflection of the computer screen. His hair is a hopeless disaster and he _does_ have dark circles under his eyes. He curses under his breath and gets up.

 

 

"Break a leg," Niall grins, patting him on the shoulder.

 

Louis rolls his eyes and shakes his head as walks out of the door.

 

Going to Mark's office is a lot like going to the Dean of Student’s office. Everyone stares at him as he makes his way towards the doors because it's _odd_ to be summoned this early, the CEO's son or not. Even Louis feels a tug of uncertainty in his gut as he approaches the door, just like the school-aged kid waiting for his meeting with the Dean.

 

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He knocks.

 

"Come in," Mark calls and Louis pushes the door open with a pounding heart.

 

He doesn't know _why_ he's so nervous because this is his _father._ He is the man who sacrificed a lot to get Louis to where he is now, and Louis is well aware that his father would do anything for his well-being _but._ It's just all so _odd_ and Louis finds himself getting more worked up about it than he should.

 

Mark's office is meticulous as usual when Louis walks in.

 

However, Mark himself is just the opposite. Another _completely odd thing._

 

"Louis, Louis, good to see you," he murmurs distractedly, flipping through his briefcase. Louis has never seen his father-- _notoriously calm under pressure_ \--look so _ruffled._ He is unshaven and the bags under his eyes even rival those of Louis himself.

 

Mark is _stressed._

"Uh--" Louis watches him uncomfortably. "Do you want help?"

 

"No, no, just sit," his father waves him off. "It's a silly little document I can't find--no big matter--I'll just have that one assistant come by later and help me search--"

 

Louis takes the seat across from him with raised eyebrows. It takes a few minutes before Mark collects his thoughts enough to remember _he_ scheduled a meeting with Louis. He mutters something under his breath and closes his eyes.

 

"My apologizes," he exhales, shaking his head. He takes his seat heavily. "You have to excuse me. Things aren't going well with the company, and the pressure is getting to me--"

 

" _What?"_ Louis interrupts, eyes growing wide. "Something's wrong with the company? Since _when?"_

"If you would do the pleasure of letting me finish," Mark says pointedly, "you will have your answers within a moment."

 

Louis falls silent.

 

"Now, Louis," Mark starts again, "you are probably wondering why I pulled you from the acquisition project, which is completely understandable. However, certain things have arisen and now I think your talents would best be concentrated in other areas..."

 

Mark leans down and pulls a rumpled newspaper from his briefcase. He slides it towards Louis.

 

In big, bold letters, Louis reads _Tomlinson Trading Reaches End of Dynasty? Teenage Tycoon Harry Styles Set to Take Over Stock Market._

 

He freezes and rereads it once, twice, a third time. When Louis finally brings his eyes back to his father, he sees how grim Mark looks.

 

"What does this mean?" Louis murmurs, dropping his gaze back down to the photo. It's a teenager with curly hair and a dimpled smile--looking barely old enough to be _legal--_ shaking hands with a Forbes representative. Louis can't really see much of his face because it's a side shot, but he can tell he's young. "I've never heard of this kid."

 

"Until last week, I hadn't either," Mark says grimly. "He is an entrepreneur, an upstart, a kid who meddled with business and hit it lucky. He's the CEO of _HC_ Stock Exchange, and it is he, Louis, who is the root of our problems."

 

Mark takes a deep breath and folds his hands together.

 

"As you are well aware, _Tomlinson Trading_ makes most of its profits through stockbroking. It is what our company was founded on and it is what we excel at. For twenty years, stock has been the market we've dominated," Mark starts heavily. "Now, Styles' company presents an obvious issue because he deals with the stock market as a _whole,_ while we only deal with a sector of it--transaction. With the power solely in his hands, we are at mercy to the whims of a nineteen year-old who could decide to push us out of the market just as easily as he decides on a tie to wear in the morning."

 

Silence follows Mark's words and Louis--Louis feels like he's been punched in the gut.

 

His father's company has never hit a _particularly_ rough patch and the idea of anyone trying to challenge that power astounds Louis. The fact that it's a _teenager_ behind the daring move blows Louis away even more. _Tomlinson Trading_ has always been untouchable, infallible and unbreachable, so the concept of a boy trying-- _and succeeding--_ in upsetting that power balance unsettles Louis.

 

"So," he starts slowly, his eyes glued onto the photo of Harry. "What do we do? How do we solve it?"

 

"That's just the question I've been thinking about for the past two weeks," Mark smiles for the first time, but it's tired and thin. "And I've come up with a plan. It's unconventional and it's risky, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Tell me, Louis, how do you feel about being an infiltrator?"

 

There's a heavy pause.

 

"Um," Louis says blankly. "I don't exactly know what that means, to be honest."

 

"Well, try to see it from my point of view," Mark leans forward, across the table. "You're my biggest asset right now, Louis. You're young and you're successful and you're good-looking and the media loves you. You show promise in the business world and you have a flawless reputation. Everyone who's _anyone_ loves you, Louis. You're a perfect role model. Are you following me?"

 

"Kind of."

 

"Smart man," Mark smiles again, his tired eyes glittering. "How _convenient_ would it be for someone like Harry to need a mentor and for someone like _you_ to make yourself available to him? It's a match made in heaven, and _very_ unsuspicious. Successful veterans take the rookies under their wing all the time."

 

Mark leans back, looking _very_ self-satisfied, but Louis still isn't sold.

 

"So," Louis furrows his eyebrows. "You want me to gain Harry's trust under the guise of a mentor. And--correct me if I'm wrong--you want me to _betray_ him? Befriend him only to exploit his inexperience?"

 

Mark laughs like it's _funny._

 

Louis doesn't see the humor.

 

"Now, it sounds bad when you put it like that," Mark is still chuckling. "I don't want you to _betray_ him, per say. Your job is to simply convince him that a merger deal would be best for his interests. Make it subtle so you don't arouse suspicion, but it's _very_ important that he signs this deal. If all goes right, by your birthday we'll be popping champagne in France!"

 

Mark laughs again. Louis feels his stomach twist.

 

"But a merger deal is the same thing as undermining him," Louis says suspiciously. "He'll lose power of his company while we monopolize the market. It'll effectively erase him off the map."

 

"Brilliant, isn't it?" his father looks utterly self-satisfied. "And you'll be the perfect part of the plan. I couldn't have asked for anyone better to do the job, and the fact that I get the pride in seeing _my son_ serving the company... It fills me with joy, Louis, it really does. You've been my biggest achievement, second only to the company itself, and I have the honor to call myself your father."

 

Louis isn't listening to the compliments. He is growing increasingly unnerved about this whole plan.

 

"Its so underhanded," Louis murmurs. He brings his gaze up to meet his father's. "That's asking a lot out of me. It's asking a lot out of this kid, who might not even _like_ me. I don't like to be involved in things like this."

 

Mark's smile falters.

 

"You've always been overly ethical," he sighs in exasperation. "When will you understand that it's the natural way of things? Survival of the fittest. We can't all be at the top, can we? _No._ This isn't a morality, game, Louis. This is strictly business."

"But--"

 

"No _but's_ ," his father says firmly. "This is the most important thing I've ever asked of you, and it's a tad disappointing that you aren't enthusiastic about it. You've known all your life how things like this play out. Why is it surprising now?"

 

"I've never been a direct part of it," Louis mutters. "It's not _right."_

 

"Alas, that's the business world," Mark heaves a sigh that's _very_ insincere. "Now, Louis. I understand this project might take a lot of your time and you might need special exceptions. Do whatever you need to accomplish the task, whether it be extra money or days off, _whatever._ You don't have to ask. Are we clear?"

 

Louis hasn't _agreed_ to this yet, but his father is already jumping the gun. He knows Louis will do anything for the best of the company and for the success of father. It's a hard place to be trapped in, but Louis can see no logical path to talking his way out of the situation.

 

He exhales deeply, then nods.

 

"Good man," his father beams. "When this whole thing blows over, you'll find yourself rewarded _greatly,_ Louis. I have something planned for your efforts in this ordeal and I think you will be _very_ pleased. Now, son, shall we shake on it?"

 

He extends his hand. Louis eyes it warily and then, with a resigned sigh, takes it.

 

"Wonderful, wonderful," Mark stands up and fixes his tie. "One more thing-- on Saturday, there is a massive gala in Paris-- _La N_ _uit des_ _É_ _toiles_ \--and I'm _sure_ you would be honored to join me as my plus one. The Styles family will be there as well."

 

"La Nuit des Étoiles?" Louis raises an eyebrow. That's a _very_ prestigious event. He's never gone. "I don't have anything ready for it."

 

"I've booked you a flight," Mark says smoothly. "Your assistant--Niall is his name?--will be forwarded details. He'll help set up a suit fitting tomorrow, and on Friday, he'll fly out with you. Over the three day trip, he'll be your company and organizer, seeing as I won't be around to keep an eye out for you. Understood?"

 

"I don't want to ask that much out of Niall," Louis wrinkles his nose. "This is all very last-minute, and I _doubt_ he'll want to tag along--"

 

"Louis, Louis, _Louis,_ " Mark waves him off with a little chuckle. "I'm offering the lad the opportunity of a lifetime, all on my tab. If he says no, then I'm a _fool_ , and I'll resign tomorrow. Styles can _have_ the firm!"

 

Mark laughs again, and then pats Louis on the shoulder.

 

"Don't look so down, son," he smiles. "You're all right, Louis. You've helped me out in a way I can only wish to repay you. I hope you understand that."

 

"Yeah," Louis says dully. "No problem."

 

Mark chuckles and crumples up the paper on the desk. Louis watches it as he throws it into the flame and Harry's face catches on fire. It's gone within seconds.

 

Louis stands up to go.

 

"Wait--one more thing, Louis."

 

"Hm?" Louis stops in his tracks, feeling weary and a tad overwhelmed.

 

"Take the day off, for _God's_ sake. Heaven knows you'll be busy in the next week."

 

[*]

 

Louis is convinced he's hit a crisis.

 

He's been sitting on his sofa since he got home four hours ago, his eyes plastered to the dark television screen in front of him. Louis' stomach growls. He has to go to the bathroom. His phone has buzzed about fifty times. But Louis--Louis is in a trance-like state.

 

Louis is conflicted. _Badly._

Twenty-four hours ago, Louis was excited for work because of the successful acquisition in the works. Now his job is his nagging doubt, his biggest issue, and the root of the dissension in his mind at the moment. In the three years Louis has worked for _Tomlinson Trading,_ he doesn't think he's had a worse day and he's _definitely_ never been given a worse job.

 

His moral compass is going haywire.

 

It's what Louis prides himself on. He's lived in this corrupt world for twenty-four years, and he's maintained his three simple beliefs that _a)_ people are intrinsically bad _b)_ money will push people to extremes and _c)_ losing your identity is the biggest mistake you can make. Louis is not materialistic. Louis is not greedy. Louis is not cunning. Louis is a bit overconfident and his pride is his biggest downfall, but that doesn't hurt anyone else. Nothing like _lying, betraying, and sabotaging a nineteen year-old kid._

The thought makes Louis' stomach twist.

 

He couldn't say no, as much as he wished he could. Louis has never refused his father because Louis can't stand the idea of Mark being disappointed in him. It's never been an option, and yet Louis is badly wishing he had the guts to speak up against this.

 

But again, Louis is conflicted.

 

Louis knows what's on the line. Murmurings of the next CEO have been floating through the halls of the firm for months now, seeing as Mark hasn't named the next one and he's steadily aging. He can't last forever. Yet Mark knows how much it would mean to Louis if he were to be the one to inherit the position, and Mark knows Louis would do just about anything to achieve it. Using Louis' _only_ desire against him is cruel and underhanded and _very_ much something that his father would do.

 

Louis Tomlinson, CEO. He says it aloud a few times, testing how the syllables roll off his tongue.

 

It's nice.

 

 _Is the cost worth the price?_ The question nags at Louis. _Sacrificing what he stands for in exchange for a title?_ Louis thinks about the world he swore he would never step into. _How much is he willing to give to climb to the top?_

 

Louis doesn't know. _He really, really doesn't know._

 

So what does he do?

 

_He calls his best mate._

_-_

The greatest thing about Liam Payne is his capability to be there whenever crisis strikes.

 

He makes it to Louis' flat in under half in hour-- _including traffic time--_ and he brings takeout. If that isn't a good friend, Louis doesn't know what the word _means._ Liam is just the greatest of all time; he has been since they met nearly ten years ago in secondary school.

 

Louis lets Liam in on the first knock and he's never been happier to see him.

 

"God, Louis," Liam grins, kicking off his shoes. "Things have been absolutely mental lately. I haven't seen you in ages, and when I got your call, I barely recognized your number. That was a joke by the way--but no matter. How have you been?"

 

He sets down the white paper sack and embraces Louis.

 

"Things have been better," Louis mutters into his sweatshirt. Liam smells like Givenchy, his cologne of choice. "But what about you? How's the job at the new firm?"

 

"It's shit," Liam sighs as the break apart. He fishes out Louis' sesame seed chicken and lo mein noodles from the bag. "The pay is shit, the boss is shit, and the job is utterly boring. Only perk is this coworker. He's dark-haired and has the longest eyelashes I've ever seen on a man. His jawline was carved by God _himself,_ Louis. And he's got the best cheekbones--"

 

"All right, all right," Louis waves a hand. "Who's the James Dean?"

 

'"His name is Zayn," Liam's ears turn red. "He's a bit shy, so we haven't talked but there's an office party coming up, and I asked him if he'd like to come with me and he said yes so..."

 

Liam ducks his head as Louis lets out a low whistle.

 

 _"And_ _Liam moves in for the kill,"_ Louis claps Liam on the shoulder. "He sounds fit, and you've been rather stale in the romance department. Hope he's a good one."

 

" _I've_ been stale in the romance department?" Liam laughs incredulously. "When's the last time you saw someone? Secondary school when you dated Hannah? Back in the _I'm-straight-I-play-football-and-have-a-girlfriend_ days?"

 

"Shut _up."_

"Reckon Mark doesn't know it yet," Liam snickers. "Still can't come out when your whole family is about as homophobic as it gets. Wouldn't that be the biggest shocker of the year? _Louis Tomlinson, Son of Mark Tomlinson, Isn't as Straight as an 180 Degree Angle--"_

"You are honestly the biggest piece of _shit_ that I know."

Liam laughs as Louis stabs at his chicken moodily.

 

"Come on Louis, cheer up," he says, elbowing him in the side. "I'll have to crack out the vodka to get you to _smile_ and it's far too early in the night to be drunk. What's pulling at you?"

 

"Work," Louis sighs, closing his eyes. "Mark removed me from the acquisition of the overseas oil company today and gave me a new job."

 

 _"What?"_ Liam's face sobers right away. "You were doing really well on that acquisition. What happened?"

 

Louis holds up a finger to pause the conversation. He pulls out his phone and quickly searches HC Stock Exchange. Pictures of Harry, various articles, and a website pop up. Louis sees _Tomlinson Trading_ listed under related searches.

 

"Ever heard of Harry Styles?" Louis says grimly, passing the phone over as Liam shakes his head. "Yeah, well I didn't either. Until now."

 

Liam furrows his brows as he scrolls through Louis' phone. The bright light reflects back in Liam's eyes. Louis watches him closely.

 

"What does this kid have to do with you?" Liam murmurs, pulling up a biography of Harry. "He's only like-- _what?--_ nineteen...?"

 

"He's the CEO of HC Stock Exchange," Louis exhales. "Does _that_ ring a bell?"

 

Liam's head snaps up and his eyes grow wide. He hands Louis back his phone.

 

"HC Stock Exchange?" he repeats in disbelief. "My firm employs stockbrokers for that company! Zayn works in that department."

 

Louis doesn't reply; he's looking at the picture Liam left up on his phone. It's a full frontal view of Harry and he's laughing, his smile lopsided and happy and there's that dimple again, carving out a crater in his cheek. His hair is shoulder-length and falls in loose curls, and he's got wide, viridescent eyes. Even though it's just a picture, Harry is so animated and lively. Louis swears he can hear his laugh.

 

He closes out of his web browser and tosses his phone back on the table.

 

"Mhm," Louis replies distantly, aware he wasn't really listening to Liam. "What did you say again?"

 

"Never mind," Liam rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "So I get that Harry's company threatens your own, but what does that have to do with you?"

 

"Well," Louis runs a hand down his unshaven face. "Mark wants _me_ to get close to him. Specifically, he wants me to be his mentor."

 

 _"Mentor?"_ Liam's eyes widen. "What in the _world_ for?"

 

"He wants me to exploit the kid," Louis says grimly. "Get him to think that merging with Tomlinson Trading will be the only way for him to succeed. If it works out, we'll practically own his company and monopolize the market along the way."

 

Liam stares. Louis sighs.

 

"It's just so _shitty,_ Liam," he starts sullenly. "I don't want to do this, but Mark hinted that if I succeed, he'll give me the CEO position. You know how badly I want that, and I just... I blanched. I blanched and I agreed to this."

 

"Louis," Liam's mouth is agape and he looks dumbfounded. "I don't even know what to say, mate..."

 

"That it sucks. That you feel bad for me. That this whole situation is shit," Louis mutters. "Any of those three will work."

 

 "All of the above," Liam says, a sympathetic look on his face. "I really am sorry, Louis. That's a terrible place to be put in, but think of it this way: if you succeed, you'll get everything you want. And you probably will."

 

"What makes you think that?" Louis asks moodily, picking up his now-cold stir fry. His stomach grumbles again.

 

"Because people... they're drawn to you, Louis. You have this aura about you," Liam shrugs. "It's kind of like _look at me, I demand attention._ You're naturally likable and you have a way of getting what you want."

 

"Seriously question that," Louis laughs despondently. "But thanks for the effort, Liam."

 

"And there's another thing," he presses on, ignoring Louis. "You don't _know_ this kid, Louis. It's not like he's your best mate, so stop thinking as if Mark asked you to kill for him or something. He could be a pretentious shit, and you'd be doing him a favor by bringing him down a level. It's not worth wallowing in your own self-pity."

 

"Hm. That's true."

 

"Just think of him as one more obstacle on the pathway to being CEO," Liam grins. "Get him out of the way and the big seat is yours. Imagine how great that'll feel after you've wanted it for so long, and you'll realize this isn't that bad of a situation. This is a _chance,_ Louis. Go seize it."

 

He slaps Louis on the back and Louis chuckles despite himself.

 

"Okay, you're right, Liam," he sighs. "I'm being too melodramatic about this. It's just another step."

 

"Just another step," Liam echoes, getting up and going to the fridge. He comes back with Louis' bottle of vodka, and he pours two glasses before handing one to Louis. "To the future CEO!"

 

"To the future CEO," Louis laughs, and they both toss the alcohol down.

 

The next three hours get _considerably_ better after the two of them have finished the vodka bottle and started in on the wine. Louis feels much more relaxed than he has in a long time, and he finds himself _giggling_ into his glass. Louis does not _giggle._ But he's intoxicated and he's with his best mate and he's finally seeing the good of the situation ahead of him and it's _really fucking great._ Louis can't remember the last time he felt this free.

 

Being drunk also makes him stupid.

 

After drink number _six,_ Louis and Liam streak onto the balcony, both completely naked and shouting at the top of their lungs. When Louis looks back on it, he's honestly grateful it was nighttime because his neighbors _aren't that far away_ but. Louis is in the moment and _the moment_ is telling Louis to jump into his infinity pool naked.

 

So he does it.

 

Liam and Louis bring the wine and have a proper pool party. The music flows through the night air intermingled with their laughs and the sound of splashing and the scent of alcohol. Liam pushes Louis into the pool and Louis dunks him underwater and it feels like they're in secondary school all over again.

 

And they keep drinking.

 

After a while, the drinking turns from _fun drunk_ to _I want to sleep drunk._ Liam and Louis hit that wall around the eighth drink, and they're shuffling inside the penthouse unsteadily, their speech slurred. Louis' world spins and he feels queasy. Liam won't stop moaning.

 

"That takeout," he mutters, clutching his stomach, "is not going to last long."

 

He doubles over and Louis' sluggish mind can put two and two together.  He stops abruptly in his footsteps.

 

"So help me _God_ if you puke on my carpet," Louis warns. "I'll actually _kill_ you--"

 

Too late.

 

Liam loses his dinner (plus some) all over Louis' new carpet he just paid a cool £1,000 for. Louis stares at the mess and back at Liam.

 

"Liam," Louis' voice is frighteningly calm. "I fucking _hate_ you, all right? _I hate you."_

"Sorry, Louis," Liam wipes his mouth apologetically.

 

" _Sorry_ isn't good enough. Pay me back the cost of that rug and maybe we can talk again."

 

" _Louis."_

"Don't be such a fucking _lightweight,"_ Louis says in exasperation. "Puking is something _secondary school_ kids do when their parents leave too many wine coolers at home and they want to seem cool. So they drink. And they puke it all up two hours later."

 

"I said I was sorry," Liam says wearily. "God, Louis. The rug is hideous anyway."

 

Louis closes his eyes so he doesn't kill Liam on the spot. It's nearly two in the morning and it's too late to devise a plan for Liam's demise just yet. But it'll come. When Louis wakes up to the mess, Liam won't stand a chance.

 

"I'm off to bed," Louis mutters. "You can kip here for tonight until I kill you tomorrow morning."

 

"I'm dead tired," Liam yawns, collapsing onto the sofa. He closes his eyes. "And I have work tomorrow. _Work._ I hope you do kill me. You'll be doing me a favor."

"Ha," Louis yawns too. "I'm off the hook because I'm on damage control duty. No work for me. I'm flying out to Paris for a gala on Friday too."

 

But Liam's not listening. He's asleep already, his mouth agape, soft snores escaping his lips. Louis rolls his eyes at him and collapses onto the sofa across from Liam in his bathrobe, too lazy to go back to his room.

 

He's asleep before the clock strikes four in the morning.

 

-      

 

The worst thing about Niall Horan is his persistence.

 

When the first twenty knocks on Louis' door go unanswered early the next morning, instead of giving up, Niall knocks another twenty. Then he calls Louis. Then he knocks twenty more times.

 

Louis stirs at knock number _thirty-five_ and he's awake by number _fifty-two._ The insistent buzzing of his phone in combination with Niall's hard raps against the door do the trick of pulling Louis out of his coma, and he is _not_ a happy man.

 

" _Goddamnt Niall, I'm coming!"_ Louis yells irritably, swinging his feet off the sofa and getting up unsteadily. His head spins and black dots flash before his eyes. Louis' ears ring badly and his legs quiver. He has to put his head between his knees to stop from passing out.

 

"What's going on?" Liam mumbles from the other sofa. He raises his bleary face and cracks one eye. "Louis?"

 

"It's nothing," Louis snaps, taking a deep breath. He goes to the door and lets in a pink-faced and concerned-looking Niall.

 

"Jesus _Christ,"_ Louis exhales, stepping back so Niall can enter. "If you wanted to break my door down, you could've done it in about fifty less knocks and brought your battering ram instead."

 

"Sorry," Niall grins sheepishly. He pauses, and then crinkles his nose. "What's that awful smell?"

 

Now that Louis is halfway awake, he smells it too. His eyes cast around the living room, and he spots the soiled rug by the terrace door. Louis claps Niall's back.

 

"That," he says delicately, "is my mate Liam's death wish. You see, Liam is too hungover to function right now and he's probably not even aware that we're talking about him, but Louis doesn't forget. And Louis promised him a long, slow, painful death after he cleans up that mess and buys me a new rug."

 

Louis is also speaking in third person and not quite sure _why,_ but Niall doesn't comment.

 

"So you had some class times on your day off then?" Niall raises an eyebrow, stepping over a vodka bottle to get to the chair. "You smell like an alcohol bar and you look like last night was fun. How _fun_ is the morning after?"

 

"To be honest," Louis nods as if he's in deep contemplation, "it's absolute shit, Niall, and I wish I was dead. But other than that, I'm feeling _peachy."_

"Yeah, well _dead_ doesn't get your suit fitted," Niall says smugly, opening up his planner. "You've got a meeting with Armani at three. It's two o'clock."

 

"Two," Louis repeats. "As in _two in the afternoon?"_

"The very same."

 

Louis pauses and takes in Niall's gleaming eyes and pink cheeks. He looks far too happy about this situation.

 

"You're enjoying the new perks of your job," Louis grumbles after a moment. "If you don't stop looking so bloody _smug,_ I'll make you pay your own ticket to Paris."

 

"I forgot to tell you about that. Yeah, it was a nice little surprise when Eleanor filled me in yesterday," Niall grins, his eyes sparkling roguishly. "I put a good word in for you, by the way. Told her you wouldn't mind drinks sometime and maybe a little bit more afterwards."

 

Liam stirs, apparently not as asleep as Louis first assumed. He lifts his head.

 

"Louis will have drinks with a bird when he grows a pair of tits," Liam says loudly. "He's about as interested in shagging a girl as he is in my grandmother."

 

Louis closes his eyes and mutters a thousand curses under his breath as Niall's gaze falls from Liam to Louis.

 

Niall grins widely.

 

"Have something to tell me, Louis?" he wags an eyebrow at him. "No judgments here, mate."

 

"Yeah, I do have something to say," Louis says in exasperation. "Liam is an absolute _bellend_ and I hate him."

 

"You can't lead your mate on like this," Liam calls from the sofa. "Let's just say that Louis--ahem-- _sings for the other choir."_

 

Louis pinches the bridge of his nose.

 

"Well, well!" Niall laughs, patting Louis on the back. "Big ups to you! Can't say I didn't have my suspicions, but no worries. There's some fit guys in the firm too, and I'll still get you set up for drinks."

 

" _Niall,"_ Louis rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "It's not a _wide known_ thing, all right? Just because Liam is a piece of shit doesn't mean that a lot of people are aware. Including my father. So don't be a complete bellend like Liam and run your mouth."

 

"Wouldn't dream of it," Niall says solemnly. "We're in this whole Harry project together too, you know. Mark told me about it."

 

"Welcome to the club," Louis sweeps his arm around the room. "Party of three."

 

Niall grins. Liam sits up and rubs his temple, squeezing his eyes shut. It takes him a few minutes before he can reopen them.

 

"Liam, by the way," Liam says wearily, nodding in Niall's direction. "Nice to meet you. You're a good sort."

 

"Cheers," Niall gives him a two-fingered salute. "Likewise."

 

And like that, Louis' friend group expands from _one_ to _two._

He isn't sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. _Not yet, at least._

 

-

 

Like usual, Louis is running late.

 

After supervising Liam in cleaning his rug, Louis had to shower and make breakfast. He didn't even get to drink his usual cup of coffee, and _that's_ definitely throwing him off _but._ Louis has to remind himself to be grateful that he's not at work with this roaring hangover.

 

Niall's tapping his shoes by the door as Louis tugs on a pair of pants over his boxers.

 

"Okay, okay, I get it Niall!" Louis shouts in frustration as he runs back to his room to brush his teeth. "I know we're late!"

 

Niall glares at him and checks his watch pointedly.

 

In takes another twenty minutes of foot-tapping and Louis' explosive curses before they're in Louis' Porsche. Louis' temper is running short as he hits the gas pedal with too much force and then they're flying out of the carpark. _It's two forty-five_.

 

Niall is stressed.

 

"They're going to cancel on us," he mutters and his incessant foot is _still_ tapping against the carpeted floorboard. Louis swears he's going to have a mental breakdown if Niall doesn't stop. "If they cancel on us, then you won't have a suit and your dad will _definitely_ fire me. Just when things started getting good! Just when I actually got a _long term job--!"_

"Niall," Louis grits his teeth as he swerves out of the way of a biker. "If you don't _shut up_ I'll fire you. We're going to be fine, for Christ's sake!"

 

Louis is on edge. He's hungover and he hates suit fittings. Louis is also feeling more tense now that he's flying out _tomorrow_ and the gala looms closer and closer. He keeps forgetting why he's going to Paris and every time he remembers those green eyes, he feels irritated for no real reason.

 

It's the stress. Louis is _stressed_ for the first time in his life, and he's losing his composure.

 

"Right, right," Niall says apologetically. He sighs. "I'm sorry, Louis. I just want to get this right. I've never done something like this before, and I know how important it is and it's--"

 

"Shh, Niall," Louis says, much kinder this time. " _You're all right,_ yeah? I'm just... frazzled. I'm a different person outside of work, especially when there's a lot happening. So really, I should be apologizing. I don't want to ruin this for you, and I'm sorry."

 

"You're not ruining it for me," Niall says firmly. "You're the one who gave me this opportunity-- _oh shit!_ Louis, turn left!"

 

Louis whips the wheel as hard as he can and the car screeches in protest as they fly around the corner. The smell of burnt rubber fills their nostrils and Louis is _so_ thankful he bought new tires last month, considering he just wore away most of his tread once again.

 

Niall exhales sharply. His hand has a death grip on the passenger seat handle.

 

" _Little_ more warning next time, yeah?" Louis mutters, hitting the pedal again. They shoot through the street. "I don't fancy having to buy a new pair of tires every time you tell me to turn. Are we close?"

 

"Right," Niall says shakily. He peers down at his phone. "Yeah, it'll be here on any minute."

 

Louis spots it before the voice navigation tells him, and he parks cleanly in the front row of Emporio Armani. He kills the engine and turns to a terrified-looking Niall.

 

Louis exhales sharply and closes his eyes.

 

"That was fun. Ready?"

 

Niall lets out a little groan, looking rather green. Louis laughs despite himself.

 

Armani is one of Louis' least favorite places to get fitted because the staff is pretentious and tests his patience, but the suits are top quality. Louis hasn't gotten fitted for Armani in ages, and despite his general dislike for the place, he's pleased with his father's choice.

 

Niall, on the other hand, is in clear awe as they walk in. His eyes are glued on the showcases, his face clearly showing his envy and wonder. The shoes being displayed in the window probably cost as much as Niall's car.

 

Louis smiles to himself and tugs Niall by the sleeve of his hole-riddled jumper.

 

"Hello," the desk manger smiles prettily as they approach, her cat-like eyes glimmering under the lights. She's dressed in sharp blazer and nicely fitting dress pants. Her blonde hair falls across her ample chest, and Louis can practically _feel_ Niall's eyes glued on her partially-exposed breasts. "How may I help you?"

 

"Yes, hello," Louis gives her a cool smile. Not too interested. "I'm here for a fitting."

 

"Name?" She glances at Niall. Her eyes linger on his jumper.

 

"Louis Tomlinson," he says, and then pulls out his wallet. She checks his identification, and then nods.

 

"We charge for late appointments," she says, her blue eyes blazing. "But I'll take you back now. The tailor is ready. And your friend--"

 

"-- He'll come too," Louis says firmly, nodding at Niall. Niall is still looking at the girl dreamily, and Louis does _not_ trust him alone with her. Not for her safety but the sake of Niall's embarrassment. "Thank you."

 

She gives him a small, tight-lipped smile, and turns. The click of her heels grows quieter.

 

"Niall," Louis says under his breath as they walk towards the back of the showroom. "If you stared at her boobs any more obviously, the guy next store would've felt it."

 

"Really?"

 

"God _yes,"_ Louis says in exasperation. " _I_ felt uncomfortable for her."

 

"Oh," Niall pauses and then adds thoughtfully, "she had _amazing_ tits though."

 

Louis smacks him in the back of the head and the conversation is _clearly_ over.

 

Which is okay anyway. Louis is already late for his fitting.

 

The tailor who emerges from behind the black curtain moments later is a short French man who speaks only in clipped words. He's got a fierce temper and absolutely _zero_ patience--he threatens to throw Niall out within the first three minutes of the introductions and continues to complain about Louis' late arrival throughout the fitting.

 

"Waste of my time, zis is," he murmurs. "Stupid 'leetle boys that cannot even _arrive_ on time..."

 

He makes Louis undress until he's standing bare in his underwear, plainly aware of the fact Niall and the tailor can both see parts of him he'd rather not expose. Louis closes his eyes and prays for this torture to be over.

 

But the tailor isn't going to make this easy for Louis. He takes each measurement twice, and makes Louis stand on the stage in the back room while he gets materials. Not only is it freezing, but he's pretty sure he's getting a _very_ inconvenient hard-on, and Louis _cannot_ think of a worse situation.

 

Niall clearly notices. He sniggers.

 

"Having fun, Louis?" he smirks, his eyes darting downwards. "You seem to be... enjoying yourself."

 

"I swear to God," Louis closes his eyes and speaks slowly, "if you don't _shut up_ in exactly two seconds, I won't give you a lift back. _Try me._ Go on, Niall. _Be a smart ass."_

"Okay," Niall tries not to laugh, but he fails. "What's harder, Louis? Your nipples or your cock?"

 

And Niall loses it.

 

"That's _really_ funny, Niall," Louis says scathingly. " _Terrifically funny._ Hope it keeps you laughing the whole way home when you're walking by yourself."

 

The tailor comes back in. He shouts something vaguely French at Niall, and even though he doesn't know what it means, it's rude enough for him to the point. Niall subsides into silent gales of laughter in the corner.

 

"I think 'zat you will look best in dark blue," the tailor circles Louis, poking him here and there. "You have 'zee right form for it. And 'zee right face. Dark blue with white undershirt, yes.."

 

He keeps murmuring under his breath as he goes.

 

"I know which suit!" the tailor says suddenly, dropping his swath of fabric. He darts to the rack behind him and shuffles through the clothing frantically until he pulls out a bag. Unzipping it quickly, the tailor pulls out a masterpiece of a suit and holds it up to the light.

 

"Look at it," the tailor says breathlessly, caressing the suit like a child. "It is _magnifique_. _M_ _on Dieu!"_

He unzips it and hands the suit over to Louis with adoration in his eyes and Louis decides the tailor is a _little_ too creepy for him, but he goes to the backroom anyway. It takes him a few minutes to carefully dress himself, and once he gets a good look at the suit, he realizes it doesn't matter his weird the tailor is. He's a master at his job.

 

It's wondrous on Louis. The suit accents all of his curves. It hugs his shoulder blades and makes his legs look obscenely good. Even if the fit wasn't perfect enough, the color brings a new dimension to Louis' look. It goes _very well_ with his eyes. His tanned complexion, still dark from the summer, looks fantastic against the blue. It accents his hair in ways Louis didn't think were _possible._

Louis looks sharp. Sleek. Handsome.

 

Niall whistles lowly.

 

_Louis gives him the finger when the tailor isn't looking._

"Zis is 'zee one!" the tailor cries, clapping his hands. "It fits like a tee! I could not have picked a better one! Zis is what you will buy, Louis!"

 

He pronounces his name with a long - _ee_ on the end. Louis smiles.

 

"Yes, I think I'll take it," he says, shrugging off the blazer. "Thank you, _monsieur._ You did very well."

 

The tailor waves off the praise and starts packing up the suit as Louis dresses in his original clothes. He tells them he will bring it to the front after they've finished checking out. Louis nods and thanks him once again.

 

Niall and Louis leave the backroom together.

 

'"If you think I was kidding in there," Louis says abruptly, his eyes glued on the showroom ahead, "then you _really_ don't know me yet, Niall."

 

"Come off it mate," Niall laughs, elbowing him in the side. "It was all good fun, yeah?"

 

"Sure," Louis gives a haunting smile, "sure Niall. _Good fun._ Sure."

 

The blonde woman is there, waiting to check them out. She smiles, enquires how their visit was, and compliments Louis on the choice of his suit. The conversation is pleasant and cordial and Niall, who clearly still doesn't  understand what being _discreet_ means, is still fixated with certain parts of her anatomy.

 

Louis kicks him underneath the counter. He lets out an odd moan that makes the woman raise her eyebrows.

 

"Your total comes to £1,914," she smiles, still looking uncertainly at Niall. Louis hands her his black card. "Would you like a receipt of your transaction?"

 

"Wait!" Niall cuts in, his eyes suspicious. "The suit was only £1,530. You've overcharged him!"

 

"No," Louis mutters in an undertone as the woman swipes his card. "There's a service charge, plus the late fee. The price is correct as is."

 

Niall huffs indignantly. The woman hands him the bag with another smile, though Louis can see the way her eyes gleam in humor. She obviously thinks Niall's lack of understanding is funny.

 

Which it is, of course. To the onlooker.

 

Louis collects the bags with a nod of thanks and exits the shop. Niall is tagging behind him, his eyes glued onto the surrounding street with awe on his face. He doesn't even notice Louis put the bags into the trunk. He doesn't notice Louis slip into the car and lock the doors either.

 

"Niall," Louis rolls down his window, and Niall's wandering eyes snap back to Louis. "I must've made a mistake. I never got my receipt. Can you run in and get it?"

 

"Sure," Niall shrugs. He makes move to turn back to the store.

 

"Wait, one last thing."

 

Niall pauses and looks backwards expectantly.

 

"Do you have your phone and cash on you?"

 

He looks a bit confused on that one, but he pats his back pockets and nods.

 

"Right," Louis smiles sweetly. "Thanks Niall. _All in good fun,_ yeah?"

 

And he spends away through London with Niall standing on the curb looking thoroughly shocked.

 

{_}

 

Packing is always Louis' least favorite thing about trips.

 

He only brings a carry-on because most of the items he needs are provided by the hotel, and Paris is no different. His father forwarded details of the lodging, and they'll be staying in the Paris Marriott Rive Gauche Hotel, which will _definitely_ supply his needs. But still, packing is a nuisance and Louis doesn't like it.

 

The flight leaves at midday tomorrow.

 

They'll leave at about eight-thirty in the morning to ensure they arrive on time. For Louis, who gets up at four in the morning for work, eight shouldn't sound bad _but._ If it's not for work, Louis has a hard time waking up to alarms, and he has keep reminding himself that _this_ is his job now. Which is a bit depressing and a bit exciting at the same time.

 

Louis is anxious for the gala.

 

La Nuit des Étoiles is an infamous event for philanthropists around the world. Many are millionaires known for their success in the business world, but there are a few celebrities and miscellaneous persona. Louis' father goes every year, but he's never had a reason to take Louis along. Louis is _always_ busy or out of town. Plus it's not really Louis' _thing--_ he likes his job and he likes making money, but he doesn't really care for social extravagance. It makes him weary.

 

  _Oh how I love your dress! No, your dress is fantastic, who is it by? Her children are so beautiful, bless her heart. I heard one of them is having an affair with the CFO!_

And then there are the business conversations.

 

_The market is flourishing, especially at this time of the year. Things fall into place, and everything blooms from there. It's the perfect time to take risks, you know? There will always be some sort of return._

It bores Louis to death, it truly does, but the idea of a glamorous _gala_ has him romanticizing the evening.

 

(He tries not to think about Harry, who inconveniently pops into his mind often.)

 

It's just so _hard_ not to ponder how tomorrow will play out when _so much_ relies on Harry liking him. Louis hates this uncertainty. He can't completely control if Harry takes to him or not, which drives him up the wall. Louis' comfort comes from jobs where he _knows_ he's skilled enough to handle them. When Louis is confident in his ability to do something, hardly anything stands in his way.

 

But this-- _this is different._

The doubts don't leave Louis, and he ends up ditching his halfway packed suitcase in exchange for his laptop.

 

The laptop is loading as Louis stretches out on his bed, the discarded suitcase laying by his side. It opens up rather quickly, and Louis' generic grass scenery stares back at him as he clicks the safari icon.

 

Google pops up. Louis hesitates over the keys, and then quickly types:

_Harry Styles_

 

The page loads fast, and there's a ton of pictures. Louis scrolls past them and clicks on his Wikipedia page. He reads it quickly, his eyes jumping over certain phrases.

 

... _Born in Holmes Chapel... Son of Anne and Des Styles... Sister named Gemma... Started studying business through school, then pursed it independently... Founder of HC Stock Exchange and active CEO... Won Forbes' Youngest CEOs with Most Influence award... Renown Philanthropist and Human Rights Activist...Outspoken supporter of LBGTQ rights..._

Louis freezes. He rereads the last words over again, and his heart jumps.

 

He doesn't know _why_ he's inferring so much from a phrase on a Wikipedia page, but he's _desperate_ for something that'll help solidify his confidence in himself. If Harry truly is a LBGTQ activist, then he's probably more liberal than ninety percent of the business world, and that gives Louis _hope._ His biggest fear is of Harry being a close-minded, pretentious _twat_ and now that he's pretty sure one of those possibilities is crossed off, he feels something close to relief.

 

Louis clicks out of the page and finds another website devoted to Harry's personal life.

 

This one is filled with pictures of Harry doing various kinds of service. There's a picture of him in Ghana with a group of kids, all of them smiling widely as they tug on his hair. Again, Louis feels like he can hear the laughter plastered on Harry's happy face just from the photo, and it makes him feel as if he's losing it a bit.

 

There's an article about the charity relief he did in Ghana, but Louis doesn't linger. He moves onto the next picture, which is of Harry on his hands and knees in a garden. He's watching a woman plant a bean stalk, and his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration. Harry's hair is shorter in this picture and he's dressed in hole-riddled jeans and a dirty white shirt. Underneath the picture, it's captioned S _tyles Digs in to Help Combat Hunger in Impoverish Communities._ Louis briefly thinks of the CEOs he knows, and _seriously_ doubts they would ever do something like this. _He_ doesn't even think he would do that.

 

Louis continues on.

 

The next photo is of Harry at some sort of event. Everyone in the background is dressed nicely, except Harry is wearing in a baggy jersey with the number ninety-six on it. Louis doesn't understand until he reads the caption below:

 

_Harry Styles Supports First Openly Gay NFL Player at Charity Event_

Louis feels a smile tugging at his lips as he looks through the gallery. Harry looks so _happy,_ so _genuine,_ and even though there are some clear tones of ridicule behind the articles written about him, he clearly is not bothered. Harry is obviously firm in his beliefs and doesn't care what others think about him and Louis--L _ouis can definitely respect that._

Louis is still grinning when the he hears a knock at the door.

 

He sets down his laptop and jogs through the penthouse to get to the other side. When he arrives, he unlocks the door only to reveal a _very_ disgruntled-looking Niall.

 

There's a pause as they both size each other up.

 

"You," Niall says breathlessly, lugging his suitcase behind him, "are _awful,_ Louis Tomlinson. Do you understand what happened to me?"

 

Louis is trying not to laugh as he steps back to let Niall in.

 

"Well I'm going to _tell_ you anyway, you absolute _wanker,"_ Niall says indignantly. "When I turned around and you had sped off, I thought you were being clever, so I waited for you to have your laugh, then turn around and get me. _And then you didn't come back_. I stood on that curb for half an hour before that blonde threatened to call the police. So then I hailed a taxi--"

 

" _Did she really threaten to call the cops?"_ Louis is fighting so hard not to laugh, his hand covering his mouth.

 

"Glad you think it's _funny,"_ Niall huffs, clearly vexed. "So then I get a taxi to my flat to pack for the trip tomorrow. My car was still at your place, meaning I had to hail _another_ taxi for the ride back here. But me--being _stupid--_ didn't grab extra money, so I could only pay part of the fare, and I had to walk the rest."

 

Louis loses it.

 

He clutches his side laughing because it honestly _hurts._ He can only imagine Niall lugging his bright red suitcase behind him through the streets of London, and that only makes him laugh harder. Niall tries to look affronted by the whole thing, but he's trying to suppress a laugh too.

 

"And that, Niall," Louis wheezes, "is why you never test my word. I'm a pretty straightforward guy, and I _warned_ you."

 

"Yeah, okay," Niall rolls his eyes and pushes his bright suitcase into the flat. Louis bites back another laugh at the sight of it. " _You win, Louis._ You got me."

 

'"Never living this down, Niall..."

 

'" _All right, I get it!"_

Louis is still chucking as he leads Niall to the guest bedroom. Niall's suitcase clicks against the hardwood floors behind him, and Louis _truly_ has to use supreme self-control to not laugh again.

 

"Right, this is your bathroom," Louis is biting his lip as he flips on the switch. "It links to the bedroom behind it. Everything you need is in the drawers."

 

Niall's eyes fall on the granite countertops, double sinks, and jacuzzi tub with a certain amount of wariness. He clearly doesn't have the same amenities at his place, and Louis is glad he can share some of his things with Niall. He's never even _used_ this room.

 

After a minute's consideration, Niall nods and steps into the bathroom, his suitcase trailing him.

 

(Louis makes a mental note to buy him some more respectable luggage for his birthday.)

 

And Louis makes his way back to his room.

 

His suitcase is still half-finished and Louis does a twenty-minute whirlwind pack to get it completed. He triple checks to make sure he packed his _bleu de chanel_ cologne and favorite shampoo/conditioner combo. Louis is always paranoid about forgetting those three items, but he feels pretty confident in his preparation as he zips up his suitcase and turns to leave--

 

Niall is standing in his doorframe. Louis nearly jumps out of his skin.

 

"When did _you_ sneak up on me?" Louis exhales, trying to catch his breath. "I didn't even hear you!"

 

"Dunno," Niall shrugs, but his gaze is fixed on Louis' laptop."Just wondering what you wanted for dinner, and I came to ask. What's that on your screen?"

 

Louis glances at the forgotten article on Harry.    

 

"Been doing a bit of background research," Louis says dismissively. "Best to know what I'm getting into, yeah?"

 

"Yeah," Niall agrees. "I know a bit about him, if it helps."

 

"You do?" Louis raises an eyebrow. "Go on."

 

'"Well, it's mostly word on the street," Niall starts slowly, "and it could be a load of rumors, but a lot of people say he's... _different._ He doesn't do what everyone else does. Really unconventional and really family-oriented. He's not in the business world to make money or scam people; he's doing it _just_ because he likes it."

 

Silence follows Niall's words. Louis mulls it over a bit, but it's nothing he's really surprised at after reading up on Harry.

 

"Hm," Louis says distantly. "We'll see tomorrow night. But yeah, let's talk dinner. I'm starving."

 

Niall's eyes brighten in a flash and he bounces out of the door. He's instantly more excited than he was thirty seconds ago, and it makes Louis roll his eyes as he follows him out of the room.

 

The computer still burns with the image of Harry's dimpled smile. 

 

[*]

 

Paris, contrary to popular belief, is not as great as everyone makes it out to be.

 

Niall finds that out the hard way late Friday night. His face is buoyant with excitement as he follows Louis out of the labyrinth of an airport, and _regardless_ of Louis' constant reminders that Paris isn't what he thinks it is, Niall's face is still full of hope as they emerge into Paris.

 

And Louis--Louis wishes he wasn't right so often.

 

It takes Niall about ten minutes to realize the truth of the city: Paris is filthy and Paris is crowded to the brink. Rude French echoes out of every window as people try to make their way out of the airport. The air is heavy with pollution, and try as Niall might to find any stars, he soon accepts the fact Paris is as starless as London on a sunny day.

 

"It isn't like this in the films," Niall mumbles, collapsing against the taxi seat after a brave attempt to find something nice in the scene outside the window.

 

"Nothing is like the films, Niall," Louis sighs. He closes his eyes. "God, I'm so tired. I can't believe we got delayed so many times. _Eight hours late._ We aren't going to have any time to sleep before the event tomorrow."

 

"That's _your_ problem, mate," Niall's eyes are plastered out of the window, and the light from the city makes his skin look sallow. "I'm not going with you."

 

" _What?"_ Louis sits up, startled. "Why?"

 

"I'm not important," Niall shrugs. "I'm the _assistant._ Plus that stuff looks boring to me anyway. I don't want to listen to a bunch of business warble while there's a _whole_ country of fit girls. They call it the city of love for a reason, you know."

 

Niall does a good job of hiding the tiny bit of jealously on his face. If Louis wasn't so perceptive, he probably wouldn't even have noticed.

 

He doesn't reply. There really isn't anything more to say.

 

The taxi driver speeds through Paris.

 

It's nearly two in the morning by time Louis and Niall unlock their room in the hotel. Whoever booked it made the mistake of only ordering one bed, but both of them are too tired to care, and they get under the duvet without even undressing.

 

They're both asleep within three minutes.

 

-

 

The next morning--or rather _afternoon--_ begins with Niall shaking Louis awake.

 

He comes around with blearily eyes and warm sun streaming onto his face. Louis feels very content--the post-sleep high, as he calls it--and he stretches luxuriously in bed before sitting up.

 

It's Saturday.

 

A sudden heat of excitement passes over Louis. He feels giddy all of a sudden. _The gala._ Whatever nerves Louis may have had yesterday evaporate, and instead are replaced with exhilarated energy.

 

Louis is rested and he's in Paris and he's  _ready._

"Morning Niall," Louis says brightly, turning to Niall. He's watching some obscure French channel, and even though Louis is positive Niall has no idea what's going on, he seems deeply invested.

 

"Someone's pretty cheery _this afternoon,_ " Niall says distantly, his eyes glued to the screen. "I couldn't wait for you to sleep any longer. It's nearly three o'clock and I'm _starved."_

"Three o'clock?" Louis jolts. "The gala starts at five. I didn't think I slept that long."

 

"Yeah, people have been coming and going all day," Niall replies. "They're setting up for it downstairs. I saw a lot of paparazzi."

 

Louis sighs and runs a hand through his unwashed hair. It badly needs a shower.

 

"Well, let's focus on the next pressing matter: lunch," Louis says slowly, a grin spreading across his face. "You could've ordered room service, you know. They'll add it to the tab when we check out."

 

"I _tried,"_ Niall says grumpily. "The people answered in _French._ I blanched and hung up."

 

"Of course," Louis rolls his eyes and motions for Niall to hand him the in-room phone. "Here. Let me do it."

 

Niall passes it over and Louis wags an eyebrow as he dials the number for the front desk. When the woman answers, Louis gives Niall a wink.

 

"Bon après-midi," Louis says with a grin. "Puis-je avoir le déjeuner, se il vous plaît..."

 

The conversation is short, but Louis looks pleased when he hangs up the phone.

 

"I didn't know you spoke _French,'"_ Niall says, clearly impressed. "Good job, Louis."

 

"I don't speak French," Louis snorts. "Well, at least not fluidly. I only took two years of it."

 

"Two years more than I know," Niall presses and Louis laughs, standing up.

 

"I digress," Louis gives a yawn and stretches his back. "I ordered some finger sandwiches, cheese and wine. It'll be up here soon, but I have to go call Mark."

 

Niall mouths a _thank you_ and goes back to his television show while Louis digs in his bag for his phone. He doesn't really use it often--only at work--and when he travels, he finds is especially inconvenient, _but_.

 

Once he finds the phone, Louis sees his screen is glowing with three unread texts. He unlocks his phone and sees they're all from Liam.

 

_I'm going out with zayn todayyyyyy :)_

Louis smiles and clicks the next one.

 

_How's Paris? How are you??_

And then there's one last message.

 

_And how's your one mate niall? Top lad he is, ha_

Louis types out a quick reply.

 

_Tell me how it goes with Zayn ! And Paris is shit , Niall is watching French soaps , and I'm desperately needing a bit of wine_

He sends it, and steps outside on the terrace. It overlooks a quaint side street, and Louis finds himself inhaling the scent of fresh bread, wet pavement, and coffee. It's a strange mix, but Louis likes it.

 

He dials Mark.

 

Mark, as usual, never goes anywhere without his phone by his side. The result is a consistently reliable answer, no matter that time you call, and Louis is glad he's so dependable.

 

It only takes two rings before he picks up.

 

"Hello Mark," Louis says in relief. "Sorry for calling so late--"

 

"No matter," Mark cuts him off. He sounds tired. "I'm pleased you landed safely. How are things working with Niall?"

 

"Brilliant," Louis grins. "I'm really glad you brought him along. He's keeping me sane. You know how I hate these type of days anyway. I can be accountable for myself in work, but outside the office, I'm a frazzled mess."

 

"I'm well aware," Mark says wryly. He pauses. "Your mother and I are arriving in Paris within the hour. We will meet you at the event at five sharp, so please don't be late. How are you feeling about tonight?"

 

"Optimistic."

 

"That is certainly pleasing to hear. You'll need your confidence. Anything else you can think of?"

 

"Not for the time being," Louis shrugs, looking at the city below him.

 

"Very well," Mark says. "I'll be seeing you later, Louis. Until then."

 

The line clicks dead and Louis pockets his phone. Conversations with Mark are never very warm and heartfelt, but _whatever._ His father isn't an affectionate person, especially when there's business to be done.

 

Louis stretches and yawns once more before shuffling back into the room, only to find Niall devouring a plate of sandwiches and cheese, a cup of wine by his side.

 

 He looks _far_ too happy for his own good.

 

"Enjoying yourself?" Louis raises an eyebrow and helps himself to a bit of cheese. It melts in his mouth and a wondrous burst of flavors explode on his tastebuds. "Paris is treating you good after all?"

 

" _So good,"_ Niall moans, his mouth full. "This is the type of food that makes you fall in love, Louis. _That's_ why Paris is the city of love--it has nothing to do with the girls."

 

He stuffs another sandwich in his mouth and Louis shakes his head in disbelief. All Niall needs is good wine and good food to be happy and Louis isn't sure if he envies that simplistic philosophy or pities it.

 

But no matter. It's nearly four o'clock, and he _definitely_ needs to get a move on if he wants to look decent for tonight.

 

He takes his wrapped suit and bag of toiletries to the bathroom, humming under his breath. He's excited to take shower, considering how dirty he feels. Louis wants to let the heat scald his skin and burn away his stress.

 

The water is burning when Louis steps in. He sighs in pleasure and gets to work.

 

Louis' skin is pink from the heat of the water by time he emerges. His hair is fresh-smelling and sticks to his forehead in clumps, but Louis feels _so_ much better. All the stress from the last twenty-four hours melted underneath the heat of the water, leaving Louis refreshed and relaxed.

 

He towels off and blows his hair dry with the woman's dryer. It's a bit embarrassing, but _hey_.

By time he gets around to actually _dressing,_ it's nearly four-thirty. Louis has to make a quick task of it, but _prays_ he doesn't wrinkle the suit. His mum would kill him if he dared showing up in a creased blazer.

 

He holds his breath as he dresses and after a thorough examination, Louis is officially _wrinkle free._

Louis grins.

He turns to the matter of his facial hair next. Louis was going to shave at first, but the stubble along his jawline makes him look older, more mature. In a room full of men and women twice his age, he thinks it couldn't _hurt_ to age himself a bit. In the end, Louis doesn't shave.

 

Now. For Louis' _actual_ hair.

 

Currently it's a dryer blown mess, but the shampoo/conditioner made it glossy and soft. He combs it smooth and combs it back. Louis looks very 1920s era, but he also looks older, and again, Louis has a _bit_ of an age deficit to make up for, _so._

He applies his cologne and straps on his watch.

 

Louis grins.

 

_It's going to be a good night._

By ten till five, Louis is slipping on his shiny black shoes. He pockets his phone and looks around the room for anything he might've forgotten. From outside the window, the sound of voices drift into the room and the flash of cameras accompanies them. There's a sense of quiet anticipation palpable in the air.

 

Niall is watching him from the bed, his gaze slightly envious.

 

"Break a leg, Louis," he grins, but the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You look sharp, mate. Really sharp. You clean up well."

 

"Thanks," Louis gives him a grin as he opens the door. He wants to say something apologetic--maybe witty--but he feels like Niall doesn't want any pity. Louis pauses. "I'll see you later, I suppose."

 

Niall nods and turns his attention back to the television as Louis steps outside.

 

_Even the hallway is a blur of action._

 

The whole hotel was reserved only for those attending the gala, and as far as Louis can tell, the hotel is pretty _full._ Outside his room, there are a couple of women in full-length gowns chattering together, waiting on their spouses to join them. They give Louis warm smiles and nod politely in his direction.

 

He gives them a small wave of acknowledgment, fixes his collar, and straightens his sleeves.

 

_Louis is ready._

{_}

 

Another terrible thing about Paris is the security.

 

Louis _knows_ the hotel staff promised that there would be no bystanders and _definitely_ no paparazzi, but Louis finds the convention hall swarmed with flashes and eager paps with cameras. It's a frenzied mess. There's people shouting in loud French, there's people cursing and shoving the paps away, and there's _very_ hassled looking people who are just trying to enter the event. Louis checks his watch.

 

_Five o'clock sharp._

He's not late and neither is his father.

 

Mark Tomlinson stands at the entrance of the hotel with Johannah by his side. His mother looks resplendent in a full-length gown of deep blue with a gold sheer over the material, her hair swept up and a few curls tumbling over her exposed shoulders. When she spots him, her face breaks into a wide smile and Louis can't help but return it.

 

He joins his parents. Mark nods at him, but doesn't say a word.

 

The three of them step towards the door of the convention hall, and unlike the previous scenes Louis observed, the paps immediately fall silent and give Mark room to step through. Mark doesn't even have to _say_ anything--it's just his effect, his aura that demands respect, and no one dares threaten that.

 

Louis smiles as he passes. He hears the click of a one or two cameras, and that's _it._

They're in.

 

And Louis--Louis is awestruck.

 

He's been to his fair amount of fancy banquets, but those don't even _compare_ to the elegance of  _La Nuit des_ _É_ _toiles._ There are about a hundred circular tables throughout the hall, all lit by gently flickering candles. The white satin tablecloths and the delicate flame make the room look so soft and dreamlike, Louis dares not to breathe for fear of waking himself up.

 

Everyone _glimmers._

Maybe it's the effect of the candles, or maybe Louis has stars in his eyes, but the people around him are beautiful. Their skin is luminescent, their eyes glow under the flicker of the flame, their faces are cast in eerie shadow and soft light. The jewelry gleams in the luster of the candles. Louis' eyes are fixed on the things around him and his mind is preoccupied with the wonder of it all.

 

Mark pulls out a seat for Johannah and motions for Louis to sit. He obeys.

 

Wine is poured into sparking glasses by a waiter with a pretty smile. Louis sips the liquid velvet and closes his eyes in contentment, unsure if he could be any less _satisfied_ with his life right now. With the luxurious scent of the food drafting through the hall, the soft piano music adding to the dream-like aura of the atmosphere, and the world's finest wine slipping down his throat, Louis can honestly say he's _happy._

Mark coughs pointedly to announce the beginning of a conversation.

 

"You're looking very well tonight, Louis," he says, folding his hands together. "I am pleased to see Armani is such a good fit for you."

 

Louis, his eyes still closed, lets out a small _mhm_ in response.

 

"I also wish to inform you that your mother and I cannot stay with you for the duration of the night," Mark continues in an undertone. "The first reason being obvious, if you recall. The second reason is on account of the business trip on Monday. We fly out tonight, and will not be back for a week. Your mother and I know you will do well to represent our family while we are gone."

 

Louis opens his eyes halfway. _This_ is new, but not enough to really vex him.

 

"All right," he murmurs. He takes another sip of wine.

 

"I am _very_ proud of you," his mother whispers, leaning forward to touch his hand. "After your father told me what you are doing on behalf of the company, I nearly burst from joy. Although it is a difficult task to do, your devotion to your family is admirable and fills me with delight."

 

Louis feels a swoop of guilt in his stomach. He doesn't reply.

 

_And thankfully, he doesn't have to._

There's a commotion at the door that pulls the attention from the conversation. Louis turns in his seat to get a better look, except he isn't the only one. Nearly half the people are craning to get a look at whatever's causing the commotion and the whole hall breaks into a quiet chatter. The change of mood is palpable in the room.

 

Louis swears he feels his heart physically stop.

 

It's strange, really. After seeing someone solely on a screen, after learning about them through printed words and verbal accounts, after his father presented him as the _enemy,_ it's hard for Louis to look at Harry Styles for the first time and _not_ feel a little overwhelmed.

 

Harry is-- _arresting._

He's dressed in a ruffled white undershirt and black blazer. He's got fitted trousers and black boots with a small heel, and his curls fall to his shoulders in glossy locks. It's what Louis _expected_ to see because that's what the images on his computer showed, but--

 

How could a pixelated image prepare Louis for the way Harry's long legs move so _gracefully_ with each step? How could Louis _imagine_ the way Harry's large hands run through his luscious hair as he tousles it carelessly to the side? How could a picture ready Louis for the way Harry's wide pink lips curl into a soft smile upon seeing the beauty of the hall?

 

The gala is beautiful, yes, but _nothing_ compared to Harry.

"His hair is tasteless," his mother says suddenly, crinkling her nose. " _Barbaric._ And his sister... _Gemma is her name?_ Why, I would _die_ if any of my girls dared to wear that two-piece jumper!"

 

Louis isn't listening because he's too busy staring.

 

Mark takes notice.

 

"I hope you're prepared for this," he says softly, fixing Louis with a steady gaze. "A lot rides on first impressions. Now you know what you're up against."

 

 _Up against._ The phrase sounds so ugly, like Louis is in a boxing ring and he's about to fight Harry. It reminds Louis just how despicable this whole business is.

 

And then--as if life couldn't make the task _any_ harder--fate delivered him a boy with artistic legs, lovely hair, and a smile as luminescent as the flicker of the candlelight. Louis finds himself _sincerely_ wishing Harry were pretentious or rude or haughty or _something_ other than so attractive because Louis knows it's harder to dehumanize glowing green eyes than a snobby teenager with too big of an ego.

 

Louis closes his eyes. He takes a long sip of wine. _He's going to need to be a little drunk to handle this._

{_}

 

The gala settles into full swing.

 

Louis makes his way through the his parents' social circles with ease. His father keeps him close by his side and introduces him to nearly _everyone_ , which is _exhausting_ , but also an honor. Louis shakes countless hands and embraces countless people and all the while knows his father is doing this to slowly introduce him to the business world. If Louis is to be a future CEO, he has to create contacts and connections early in order for him to be successful.

 

So Louis puts on his best smile and most relaxed face. Conversation falls easily from his lips (which, admittedly, could be from the amount of wine Louis has consumed) and he finds himself carrying the bulk of the discussion while his father listens carefully, nodding in approval. The people Louis meets all seem delighted with him, and it leaves Louis feeling immensely satisfied.

 

Louis is so busy he forgets about the other pressing matter of the night--until his father pulls him off to the side.

 

It's been nearly three hours since the gala started, and Louis is pleasantly full and his mind is foggy with the wine. His face is flushed and his lips are stained red. He smiles too frequently and probably laughs too much, _but._ The people like it, and Louis is still sipping wine as his father beckons him to the side of the room.

 

"All right, Louis," Mark says lowly, patting his shoulder. "Here is your time. You have three days in Paris. Make tonight count and go from there."

 

"Right," Louis smiles lazily. He can't even get nervous when the alcohol flows through his veins like this. "I know, Mark. I'll be fine."

 

"I certainly hope so," Mark heaves a sigh. "Remember Louis, publicity is _not_ a bad thing. It'll help everyone get used to the idea of you as Harry's friend--"

 

" _Mark,"_ Louis cuts him off with an easy laugh. "You worry too much. Go catch your flight."

 

"And you drink too much," Mark raises an eyebrow at Louis' wineglass. "Cut down on the alcohol, if you wouldn't mind, Louis."

 

" _Nonsense_ ," Louis takes another sip of the velvety wine. "When in Paris, Mark. _A_ _u revoir."_

 

He raises the glass to the sparkling candlelight in a mock toast and laughs as he steps back into the crowd, leaving Mark in the shadows.

 

_And the games begin._

Of course, Louis is clever and he knows how to play his hand of cards well. It would be too presumptuous of him to approach Harry out of the blue at an event like this. Not only would it look suspicious, but it _definitely_ isn't Louis' style. No, he prefers to be a little more subtle, and Louis studies the flow of conversation to plan his next move.

 

There is almost always a group of people surrounding Harry, wanting to shake his hand or ask him questions or compliment him. It's understandable and nothing Louis couldn't predict. Harry is the newest fascination, and _everyone_ wants to leave tonight saying they had the privilege to exchange words with him. He's the star in _La Nuit des_ _É_ _toiles,_ and Louis has to be _patient._

So he chats with more of the acquaintances Mark introduced him to earlier. It's simple, bland conversation and both sides of the party can perceive the superficiality of the exchange, but they are fascinated by Louis and Louis is polite enough to feed their interest.   

 

He feels a tad unsteady on his feet. He decides to slow down on the wine.

 

(But he's also feeling _very_ daring.)

 

All of the boring chatter is making Louis antsy. He begins shifting his feet too often and his gaze finds other things to look at instead of just the faces of the people he's conversing with. Louis is feeling uninhibited and he's on the edge of breaking the ice and he _finally_ sees an opening. 

 

Harry is sitting at a table, looking quite tired and _quite_ alone for the first time in three hours.

 

"-- while your father was growing up, he frequently talked about economics and politics in general. It made me think of you, Louis. You were always so interested--"

 

"Excuse me," Louis says sweetly, interrupting a woman whose name he forgot three wineglasses ago. "I'm sorry to be so rude, but I must ask for your pardon."

 

"Why, of course," she smiles uncertainly, clearly thrown off. "It was good talking to you, Louis. Always the best."

 

Louis gives her a polite little nod, his eyes glued on the table in the far corner.

 

Except this time, he's met with a pair of green eyes staring back at him.

 

It's like a connection, an understanding, an invitation between the two of them. Louis steps away from the woman and begins walking towards Harry and Harry _knows_ he's coming--he's smiling softly, despite the tiredness in his eyes.

 

Louis distantly realizes this is the first time _he's_ the reason behind Harry's lovely smile.

 

( _He feels dizzy. But maybe it's the wine. It's probably the wine.)_

Louis stops in front of the table and sticks a hand in his pocket. He takes a long sip of the velvety liquid and fixes Harry with a look from above the rim of the glass. A few tense moments pass as they hold each other's gazes.

Harry is the first one to speak.

 

'"Hello," he extends his hand towards Louis. His eyes are fixed on Louis' own. "I don't think we've met before. Harry, by the way. Harry Styles."

 

Harry's voice sounds like it was rolled in honey and sprinkled with powdered sugar. Louis realizes he's never heard his speaking voice, and he's _glad_ he has now.

 

Louis takes Harry's outstretched hand. It's calloused and warm and much larger than Louis' own.

 

'"It's a pleasure, Harry. I'm Louis. Louis Tomlinson."

 

" _Ah._ Lovely to finally meet you," Harry smiles, leaning forward. Louis doesn't miss his slight change in tone upon hearing his name. "I've heard nothing but good things about you. But again, it's my firm belief to learn about people through actual contact with them rather than articles printed by sleazy magazines. It's too easy to be mislead. But no mind--here, take a seat."

 

Louis gives him a gracious nod and slides into the chair across from him.

 

(And again, maybe it's the wine, but Harry's eyes burn a gentle green underneath the candlelight, and it makes Louis' mind feel foggy.)

 

"So," Harry leans back and gives a small laugh. "Isn't this ironic? The whole world thinks we're mortal enemies, but here we're sitting as acquaintances."

 

"What the world thinks means nothing," Louis waves it off. He knows he can't start off arousing suspicion, and by pressing the matter of his family, he'll get nowhere with this conversation.  _Get Harry to forget who he is_. "Let's not make last names and business affairs and politics of matter anyway. It complicates things in ways they don't need to be. I'm Louis, _just Louis,_ and I enjoy wine and football."

 

Harry beams at Louis and his face lights up.

 

"I like that," he says thoughtfully, his fixed on Louis. He seems engrossed in studying Louis' features. "I'm Harry, _just Harry,_ and I enjoy art and classical music and architecture."

 

"Well, you've succeeded in making me sound like a right dud," Louis acts affronted. "Now I have to think of better things to say because I simply _can't_ start off this way."

 

"Go on then," Harry laughs, taking a sip from his glass. It's only then Louis notices he's drinking water, and it's a blaring reminder of just how _young_ Harry is. He's probably the only one in the whole room who's under drinking age.

 

"Right, well," Louis starts ruefully, "I was actually hoping I could come up with better interests, but my life is centered around my job and I don't really have anything outside of it that makes me happy, I suppose. Which makes me sound more uptight and pretentious than I really am, I assure you."

 

He takes another sip of wine. Harry's eyes don't leave him.

 

"Well Louis," Harry says, a brightness flashing in his gaze, "we need to work on your recreations. There's plenty of lovely things outside of jobs, and it always makes me sad to see people sucked into the belief that work is the only rewarding thing out there."

 

There's a pause. Louis looks around for a moment, and realizes a few people are watching them. He wonders if that's a good thing or not.

 

 _Don't think about it_ , Louis tells himself sternly. _Keep it simple_.

 

He takes another sip of wine.

 

"I know," Louis muses after a moment. "It's just... I dunno... life flies by fast, yeah? One minute you're twenty and excited to enter the world and the next you're a jaded twenty-four year old who only finds satisfaction in his job. I don't even remember the last time I _enjoyed_ something that didn't relate to work."

 

There's another pause and Louis is slightly embarrassed. He didn't mean to be _quite_ so honest.

 

"Interesting," Harry nods. He runs his tongue along his obscene pink lips in an absentminded way and it's _definitely_ not intentional, _but._ Louis feels his mind running in directions it shouldn't. "For me, time is a mentality. If I choose to embrace each second for what it's worth instead of always rushing to the next task in a race against the clock, I'll get more out of each day. The more you get from your days, the more full they feel, and _that_ is what stops time, you know? Time freezes in moments. Maybe it's the touch of a hand, or a brush against the skin, or a gentle kiss..."

 

Harry trails off, his eyes cast off in the distance, and Louis--

 

_(Louis gazes at Harry's hair and wonders how time would feel if Louis got to spend his moments twisting his fingers in Harry's dense curls.)_

 

 He _wants_ to say something along the same lines, but he's sensible and steers the conversation out of those waters.

 

"You're so worldly for a nineteen year-old," Louis laughs easily. " _Sage-like,_ you are."

 

"I'm really not," Harry shrugs modestly. "My mum is, though. So is Gemma. They're the ones who tell me these things, and all I have to do is listen. If it weren't for them, I couldn't hide my unsophistication _nearly_ as well."

 

"You're certainly doing a good job," Louis says lightly. He pauses before adding, "I mean, it's probably extremely difficult for you to be doing what you do at such a young age. _I_ know it is for me, and I'm--what? Five years older? The world expects so much of you, and at the end of the day, they forget you're still a teenager."

 

Harry hesitates.

 

"I dunno," Harry says uncertainly. He casts his eyes downwards. "I don't make it too complicated. I am who I am and I can't change. It would be ridiculous for me to try and fit whatever standards others set for me because then I would lose my sense of self, and in a world like business, I've learned that keeping your sense of self is the only thing that keeps you sane."        

 

The truth of the statement rings in Louis' ears. _Is he keeping his sense of self by sitting here with Harry, under the pretense of friendship, knowing full well what his intention is?_ Louis knows the answer, but he doesn't want to admit it to himself. It's a hard pill to swallow.

 

"Yeah," Louis murmurs after a long pause. "Yeah. That's really... _yeah."_

There's a heavy silence over the pair of them and Louis doesn't even realize they've been joined by another person until she clears her throat.

 

Louis jumps. Harry looks startled too.

 

"Harry. Mum's gone up the room; her head is aching," the girl says matter-of-factly. She looks a lot like Harry--except her eyes are chestnut and flashing suspiciously as her gaze falls on Louis. "Who is this?"

 

Gemma is a perceptive sort, and Louis can tell right away that she doesn't trust him.

 

"Don't be rude, Gems," Harry's mouth tugs down at the corners in unease. "This is Louis Tomlinson. We were just talking."

 

She _definitely_ looks mistrusting upon hearing Louis' name. She isn't smiling as a Louis extends his hand and he feels traitorous when she finally does shake it.

 

"It's nice to meet you," Louis keeps his cool and doesn't let it phase him, despite uncomfortable he feels. "Harry was just telling me about you. He has high respect for your intelligence, and I must say I do too."

 

Louis knows as soon as the words come out of his mouth that the compliment is too forced.

 

Gemma doesn't even acknowledge it.

 

"Mum wants you to come back up in ten minutes," she says, turning back to Harry. Her arms are folded across her chest in obvious displeasure. "I'm going back to the room, but if you're late, I'll come scope you out."

 

She adds a wink at the end, and then she turns on heel and disappears without a word to Louis.

 

"Sorry," Harry ducks his head in embarrassment. "My sister is really... er... protective, I suppose. She thinks I can't handle myself even though I'm _ninteteen."_

_Louis wants to tell him that Gemma is right for watching out for him. Harry is only nineteen and that's exactly the problem._

 

But he doesn't. He simply smiles and shrugs.

 

"Better to be safe than sorry, I suppose."

 

"Yeah..." Harry yawns despite himself and checks his watch. His eyes grow wide. "It's nearly one in the morning. Wild how time runs when you want it to walk, isn't it?"

 

Louis is suddenly aware of how tired he is too. He needs more wine.

 

"Yeah. Yeah it is, but I've had a _long_ day," Louis stretches his back. "I really enjoyed speaking with you, though. Really truly."

 

It falls silent. The whole hall feels particularly quiet, and Louis realizes they're part of the last twenty people still around. The candles are burning low and the staff is already beginning rounds at the tables for cleanup.

 

"Yeah," Harry says softly. His eyes hold Louis' gaze with earnestness. "I enjoyed myself as well. In fact, I enjoyed myself _so_ much that I would be really happy if we could meet again sometime? It's boring being the only young person around here, and mum is _awfully_ dull when we go places. Plus we can work on those recreations of yours."

 

Harry grins shyly and Louis is about to open his mouth when Harry cuts in hurriedly with a quick _if you can, of course--sorry, I shouldn't have been so demanding--it was just a thought--_

 

And now it's Louis' turn to cut in.

 

'"Harry," he smiles tiredly, speaking over Harry's chopped words. "I would like that. We could be _just Louis_ and _just Harry_ again for a day."

 

" _Just Louis and just Harry,"_ Harry says with glowing eyes. "That's nice. That's really, really nice."

 

He takes out a napkin and a pen and scribbles out his phone number hastily.  

 

'"Sorry--I'm late, and Gemma will start hunting me down soon--but this way, you'll be able to reach me," Harry smiles, handing him the napkin. "About meeting up again."

 

"Yeah, all right," Louis says slowly, feeling himself smile too. "Thanks Harry. _B_ _onne nuit."_

Harry gets up from the chair and stretches his back. He looks happy, but _really_ tired.

 

"Bonne nuit, Louis." His voice wraps around the French syllables easily, and he pronounces Louis' name with the stress on the _-ee._ Louis is just thinking about how nice it sounds when he looks back up and--

 

And Harry has disappeared.

 

Louis is the last person in the entire hall. The emptiness seems to magnify its size and make it seem less _beautiful_ and more _haunting._ Louis sighs and blows out the last candle at the table.

 

Sharp French echoes around the hall as the staff works on cleaning up the mess. They shoot him dirty looks and Louis gets the point. He yawns and begins making his way back to the room, the napkin clenched tightly in his hand.

 

Louis feels good.

 

Not the good feeling he gets when he's drunk. Not the rewarding feeling he gets at work. This is more like a _sensation--_ it's the warm joy you feel after a hot shower when you slip between cold sheets. It's the sensation of drinking water on a steaming day, or falling asleep after a tiring week. It's well-being and _so very_ satisfying and even though it's extremely new to Louis, he thinks he likes it. There's a reason to be excited, even if it's nothing more than being near Harry again, and Louis _wants more._

 

He unlocks the door to his room and staggers in.

 

Louis is greeted with the tremendous sound of Niall's snores as soon as he crosses the threshold and Louis wants to laugh, but he's simply _drained_ of energy. He's half-asleep as he undresses, and doesn't even think twice about it before he crawls into bed next to Niall with just his boxers on.

 

Louis has his phone though, and the napkin is still in his clammy hand. Louis unfolds it and smiles in the dark at the loopy writing. He adds the number to his contacts, and even though his screen is bright with six unread messages, Louis ignores them and types out his first text to Harry:

 

_It's 'just' Louis :) see you tomorrow maybe ? I'm not doing anything xx_

 

He sends it and puts his phone on his bedside. He's hopeful, he thinks. Maybe Harry _did_ take to him. Maybe this job won't be so hard after all. The CEO position looms somewhere in the distance, and Louis feels like he's taken the first step towards it.

 

_Maybe he'll be toasting to his CEO appointment by his birthday._

_-_

 

When Louis was younger, he always got frustrated when he woke up from a sweet dream and reality stole the sugary essence from his sleep. Somehow, the events of his dreams were never as rich and silvery the morning after as they were when he was experiencing them.

 

It's like a novelty.

 

Once it wears off, once the gleaming beauty fades and the excitement diminishes, a dream is nothing but a desire, a wish, a contradiction to reality. It's a realization that's not fun to make, but Louis is a pretty straightforward, practical guy.

 

It's the same way he feels when he wakes up the next morning.

 

He's awake before dawn. Niall isn't even up and Louis doesn't know why _he_ is, but falling back asleep isn't an option. He's already more alert than he'd like to be.

 

Louis runs a hand down his face.

 

He begins to remember why he's feeling so diluted and the answer comes in the form of Harry and the wine and the satisfaction he remembers expanding in his chest like a balloon last night. Louis remembers being happy for no real reason and unusually optimistic, despite the circumstances. Of course, the fact he was intoxicated had a _bit_ of a role in it, but Louis was also caught up in the moment, in the aura, in the thrill, and he forgot the _real_ reason of his task.

 

Like he said, dreams are less sweet in the morning.

 

The feelings he experienced last night seem increasingly frivolous in the light of the day, and without those dizzying green eyes to distract him and the wine to blur his reasoning, Louis finally sees how _silly_ he was last night.

 

He sits up and stares at the dawn brushing its pink fingertips along the night sky.

 

It scares Louis how _easy_ things were with Harry. He was too open, too untroubled, and _definitely_ not focused enough. Being that complacent is _dangerous._ It allows him to lower his guard. In a job like this, that could be a fatal mistake, and Louis _cannot_ afford to be chancy.

 

Plus Harry could wheedle his way into Louis' affection, and that's another complication Louis doesn't even want to consider. It's already hard enough to look into Harry's earnest green eyes knowing what he has to do. _Liking_ Harry would make that nearly impossible.

 

Louis has to stop messing around. _Stupid, stupid stupid._

If he wants the CEO position, he has to do better. Harry is dangerous in ways he doesn't even _understand_ and Louis is foolish. He has to distance himself from the situation before it starts playing with his head.

 

He takes a deep breath.

 

 _Life likes to screw with him,_ Louis decides wryly, watching the sun rise outside his window. _He has to detach himself from Harry while simultaneously getting close to him._ It's bitter irony, and everyone is laughing _except_ Louis. If the CEO position weren't hanging in the balance, Louis would throw his hat in and walk away before things get tiring.

 

He already is exasperated.

 

The _last_ thing Louis wants to do is spend the day with Harry after last night unsettled him. But it's the irony striking again-- only way for Louis to succeed is by being around Harry, except Harry is _exactly_ the reason Louis will fail if he's not careful.

 

 _Breathe,_ he tells himself, shaking his head. _You're overexaggerating. Don't overthink._

 

Louis has a goal: to be CEO of his dream company. Louis has a task: gain Harry's trust. Louis has a focus: keep Harry as _far_ away from him as he can while keeping him physically close. It's simple. Louis can keep his composure, and he _can_ succeed.

 

His phone glows on the bedside. Louis picks it up and sees a text from an unknown number.

 

_Hello Louis. I had a lovely time yesterday, and I would like to repay you. Meet me in the lobby at noon? xx H._

Louis reads the message once, twice, a third time. His eyes are glassy and his face is expressionless.

 

 _This is an opportunity_ , he reminds himself firmly. _Nothing more. It's a step towards the goal._

 

So he quickly types a response:

 

_Sure ! Sounds nice :) x_

 

Louis sets the phone back down and heads to the bathroom.

 

He needs a long, cold shower and time to _get his head straight._

-

 

"Niall," Louis exhales for about the fiftieth time, "how many different ways can I explain to you the story before you _stop asking?"_

"Sorry, sorry," Niall's eyes are shining brightly and his hair is tousled. "It's just easier to get a full perspective when you know all angles of the story. So, did Harry talk first or you?"

 

"I don't know," Louis closes his eyes. "Maybe it was him. I think it was him. Keep in mind I was decently drunk by this point."

 

" _Louis!"_ Niall punches him in his shoulder lightly. "It sounds like _he_ did all the work. That's a good sign!"

 

"If you suppose," Louis answers wearily.

 

"No listen," Niall says, unwavering. " _He_ talked first. _He_ gave you his number. _He_ asked you to spend time today. Maybe he fancies you!"

 

"Oh, for _God's sake_ , Niall..."

 

"It would make sense!" Niall says defensively.

 

"Except _this_ wasn't a romantic thing," Louis is clearly exasperated as he picks out something to wear. "This is a job, Niall. He's a kid who doesn't have anyone close to his age to relate to. Nothing more."

 

"Listen--"

 

"How about we talk about breakfast, yeah?" Louis says pointedly, cutting him off. "Breakfast sounds good."

 

"You little _shit,"_ Niall laughs in resignation. "But yeah. Breakfast is good. I'll order while you get ready for your date."

 

 _"For Christ_ _sake..."_

Louis is too tired of explaining to a _very stubborn_ Niall that this is _not_ on date.

 

So he lets Niall be and shuffles through his bag until he finds a black button-up and a pair of black jeans. It matches with his black trainers and black is a good color for him, _so._ He goes to the bathroom and changes.

 

It's eleven o'clock.

 

Louis isn't really hungry, but he doesn't want to just _sit_ and wait for twelve to come around. It isn't nervous energy or anything--Louis simply dislikes watching time pass. Not only does it make him feel lazy, but it makes the day seem _forever_ long.

 

Louis runs a hand through his halfway damp hair and flicks the bathroom light off.

 

When he returns to the room, he's surprised to see Niall dressed and ready too. He raises an eyebrow and doesn't ask--but Niall doesn't make that necessary anyway. Niall is _very_ transparent.

 

"You're not the only one who's going out on a date," Niall grins wickedly. "I'm going to enjoy myself in Paris tonight. _Really_ live it up, y'know?"

 

" _All right, Niall,"_ Louis rolls his eyes. "As long as you're done watching French soaps, I don't care what you do."

 

" _Hey._ You would be surprised at how good those were..."

 

A little while later, the food arrives.

 

It becomes clear to Louis _right away_ that entrusting Niall with ordering was a big mistake. As the second fully-loaded cart is pushed into Louis' room, he's raising his eyebrows so high they nearly disappear into his hairline.

 

Niall looks slightly apologetic and shrugs like _I didn't know._

"Niall," Louis says delicately as the last staff member leaves. "This is enough food to feed us for a _week._ Were you thinking _at all_ when you ordered?"

 

"The French portions are small," he answers defensively. "How was I supposed to know?"

 

"Oh, for God's _sake,"_ Louis closes his eyes. "You're hopeless, Niall. Absolutely hopeless."

 

He does eat a few croissants and drinks a steaming cup of coffee though. Louis makes the wise choice to avoid the wine and Niall--Niall works on devouring everything in sight.

 

Louis is shaking his head in disbelief as his phone buzzes. He pulls it out.

 

_Paris is waiting for us. And also, I am waiting for you. xx H_

 

Louis stuffs the last bit of croissant in his mouth and drains the coffee cup. He wipes his mouth and hurriedly pulls on his trainers, cursing at himself for being so _stupid_ as to not watch the time. It's nearly ten past twelve and Louis _hates_ being late.

 

"Where you off to in such a hurry?" Niall raises an eyebrow as he munches on a pastry.

 

"I think we've been over this at least twenty times this morning," Louis mutters as he searches for his keycard. " _Shit._ Where is my wallet?"

 

"On the bedside," Niall says wryly, watching him. "You paid for breakfast with your card."

 

"Oh, _right..."_

"For not being a date, you seem _pretty_ frazzled," Niall grins. "You know, it's rude to keep him waiting."

 

Louis pulls open the door with a harassed sigh. He gives Niall one last look.

 

"You know, you're just as bad as Liam. And there was _hope_ for you, Niall."

 

Niall laughs and shrugs off the comment.

 

"Bye Louis. Have fun."

 

Louis rolls his eyes and closes the door. Once alone in the empty hallway, he tucks his wallet into his back pocket and smooths his shirt.

 

_He's ready._

It only takes him about a minute to jog the stairs and make it down to the lobby. Louis pauses at the entrance, his eyes darting around the room.

 

Harry isn't that hard to spot.

 

Harry is wearing a billowy yellow shirt unbuttoned sinfully low. The exposed skin is inked with some sort of tattoo--Louis can vaguely make out the tips of two wings--but his chest is also smooth and nicely toned. He wears a cross on his neck that hangs low into the V of shirt.

 

Again, his legs look like pure elegance in tight black jeans and he finishes off his outfit with black boots. His hair is swept more to the side today, but it still tumbles to his shoulders in curls that make Louis feel like putty.

 

Harry grins softly. His eyes are iced jade beneath the grey Paris sky.  

 

"Well, hello Louis," he says, his mellow voice ringing in the quiet air. "I was beginning to think you stood me up or something. You look nice."

 

The compliment throws Louis off. _Just a job,_ he reminds himself. _Don't play into it._

 

"Thanks," Louis smiles coolly. "And no, I wouldn't be _that_ rude. My mate Niall ordered two carts of food accidentally, and I got distracted with him and lost track of time."

 

"Understandable," Harry chuckles. His gaze doesn't leave Louis. "All right, so. I've been thinking, and I've come to the conclusion that Paris is the best place to find things to enjoy."

 

"Is that so?" Louis murmurs. "And why is that?"

 

Harry opens the door of the lobby for Louis and lets him pass first. Louis nods his thanks.

 

"Well, let's start with the food," Harry says sensibly, as if he's walking through the pros and cons of a product. He walks in step with Louis. "Tell me, how much do you like French cheese?"

 

"It's really good, I suppose..." Louis raises an eyebrow and Harry's smile grows larger. "You have something planned, I can tell."

 

"Well of course I do," Harry says happily. He pulls a brochure out of his pocket. "We're going to learn how to make French cheese!"

 

Louis pauses, a little thrown off balance. _Cheese?_ Well.

 

"All right," Louis laughs despite himself. It's all so ridiculous; he can't help it."You're a man with a plan. _Quite literally."_

And Louis isn't exaggerating--Harry has two tickets in his hand for a cheese demonstration. He must've looked this up, called ahead, ordered tickets _and_ bought them. Harry took this pretty seriously.

 

"Well of course, Louis," Harry acts affronted, "I said today would be my treat and it's _very_ rude to let down a promise. Or so I've learned."   

 

"If you insist," Louis allows Harry a smile. "Lead the way."

 

Harry practically _glows._ He sticks his hands in the pocket of his jeans and strides forward, which is _really_ inconvenient, considering his legs longer than Louis' own. It's a struggle to keep up with him.

 

"So," Harry starts, completely unaware that Louis is breathing heavily next to him, "we have a bit of a walk ahead of us. Would it be too personal of me to ask about yourself?"

 

"No, no, not at all," Louis says breathlessly. "Although if you don't slow down a tad, I doubt I'll be speaking for much longer."

 

Harry stops abruptly--Louis nearly runs into him--and he laughs, clearly embarrassed. His cheeks burn red.

 

"Sorry," he says shyly, running a nervous hand through his hair. "Mum is always on my back for the same thing, but I always forget..."

 

"You're fine," Louis smiles, but it's feeble. "Right, so you want to know about me. Hm..."

 

Louis doesn't like the question, if he's honest. Exposing too much of yourself is like an armor with chinks, and Louis doesn't like being defenseless. Still, he knows his job is to get Harry to trust him, and the quickest way to earn trust is by being open.

 

"Yeah, I do," Harry says, looking eager. He starts walking again, this time careful to match Louis' strides.

 

"Okay. Well, I work for my father's firm," Louis starts uncertainly. "I've been working there since I turned twenty-one. I do all kinds of tasks--my father wants me to be diverse, I suppose--"

 

"Louis," Harry cuts him off gently. "We're _just Louis_ and _just Harry_ today. Those things don't exist right now, remember?"

 

There's a pause. Louis laughs quietly to himself and shakes his head. 

 

"Right. My mistake," he sighs. "So _me._ That's a bit harder to do, but I'll try. I live in London and I have a best mate named Liam--well, Niall too; he's actually here with me--but they're both incredible, regardless. I've known Liam since school, and he's always been interested in business, so my father gave both of us jobs right out of graduation at his firm. Liam left a few years back out of conflict interests, but we're still quite close..."

 

Louis trails off as they walk across a busy street. The air is thick with the smell of gas.

 

"I like football," he continues, ticking the list off mentally. "And I like my job. I love working and I read too many business magazines than I'm worth. I check the Forbes website obsessively, and the stock market app is the most used on my phone. I also like to travel--which I don't get to do very often--and I like when my sisters stay with me. Again, it's not very common, but when my parents need someone to watch them short-notice, they come to my place. My flat turns from bachelor's pad to kid paradise within three minutes, I swear. All my and pillows are hoarded for forts. Disney films are the only thing that place on the television. The amount of mac and cheese that goes around is ridiculous, and cleaning up after five girls takes _days_. Still, I'm the family favorite, so I guess it's a win-win."

 

Louis finishes with a proud shrug and Harry lets out an adoring laugh. His eyes are soft and full on interest.

 

"That's wonderful Louis, it really is. I always wanted to have younger siblings so I could spoil them," Harry sighs. He pauses and looks slightly embarrassed. "Sounds like you have a good family. Was growing up fun? Or is that too much to ask?"

 

"No, no," Louis says dismissively, waving a hand. "There's not much that I'd say is _too personal,_ Harry. I'm quite open and I'm quite frank. Now as far as my childhood..."

 

Louis lets out a short laugh.

 

"I was always a little shit," he shakes his head, the smile tugging at his lips. "Always too much of a child at heart. I got into trouble a lot for being a smart-ass in class with the teachers, played _one too_ many pranks on my friends, and never really took anything seriously. I spent more time than I was worth in the Dean of Student's office or in detention. My parents were dead frustrated with me, and--quite frankly--I don't blame them. The kid I was ten years ago versus the man I am now are two completely different people. No one expected me to mature like I did, but _hey._ I'm here now and there's hope for everyone."

 

Harry joins Louis in laughing too. His cheeks are pink from the bit of chill in the fall air, and his curls blow around his face. Harry's green eyes are iced jade, and his pink lips look smooth, soft. Louis finds himself caught up in the sound of the laughter dancing from those pretty lips and he has to remind himself _to get it together._

 

This is a  _job._ If Louis were at the firm, he wouldn't let such a thing distract him. This is no different.

 

_(Except now he's fighting for the CEO position, of course.)_

"I think I would've liked you just as much then," Harry's face glows. "I always find it nice when people don't take things too seriously. Life can be really easy to read into when you're constantly sweating every detail, you know? Fun-loving sort are the best at heart."

 

"Yeah, well, it's a shame I grew out of that," Louis sighs. "I'm not very _fun_ anymore. Not that I'm _boring,_ but life sucks the lightheartedness straight out of you the moment you turn twenty-one."

 

There's a pause.

 

"Ah, but I disagree," Harry runs his tongue across his lips again and Louis has to blink rapidly to stop himself from staring. "You're still a lively sort underneath whatever persona the industry built for you. What other kind of person would accept an invitation to spend a day with someone they _barely_ know in a foreign city?"

 

Louis knows that's not _exactly_ the case, but he lies it off effortlessly.

 

"True," he laughs easily. Louis runs a hand through his hair. "You're practically my mortal enemy, after all. I wonder what our parents would think if they knew we're both fraternizing with the competition."

 

He elbows Harry in the side and Harry sighs and laughs too, but he looks rather sad.

 

"That's the worst part of it all, I think," he says after a pause. "If you hadn't talked to me first, I never would've approached you simply because my mum doesn't trust your family. No offense, of course, but that's just how she views things. I'm sure your parents wouldn't be exactly pleased about you talking with me either, but I didn't see them around last night..."

 

( _Louis' parents would be more than pleased, but again, Louis does what he knows best.)_

 

He plays it off.

 

"My parents left for a business meeting," Louis says wryly. "And you're right--they're always scared of me talking with the wrong sort. If they were there, I doubt I would've approached you, and then I wouldn't be here on this nice day now. Which is unfair in a lot of ways, considering you're lovely to spend time with."

 

Harry smiles shyly at the compliment. The way his cheeks pink is another blaring reminder to Louis how _young_ he is. It's been a long time since he was bashful enough to _blush,_ but he supposes self-composure comes with age. Louis actually finds Harry's bashfulness endearing and his chest tightens in a funny way.

 

"You're lovely to be around too," Harry says breathlessly, his large eyes shining under the Paris lights. "I'm so glad we get to do something fun and friendly today. It's unfortunate that we live in a world where family names can distance you from someone who has the potential to be a good friend without you ever _knowing,_ but still. I'm sure my family would like you regardless."

 

He's so earnest. His face is glowing with enthusiasm, his emotions on his sleeve, and his passion feverish. His transparency is so innocent to Louis and it makes his stomach swoop-- _this_  is the kid who's supposed to be his enemy? This kid, with glowing green eyes and a belief that last names and company interests don't matter? This kid, who barely knows Louis, and yet leaves himself so exposed without any sort of fear?

 

To Harry, things are so _simple._ Louis doesn't have the heart to tell him just how complicated it really is.

 

"Shhh, Harry," Louis says kindly, putting a finger on his own lips. He decides to steer the conversation from these dangerous waters. "Let's not dwell on that kind of thing, yeah? Tell me about you instead. _Just you."_

Harry's face transforms. He looks at the city scene dreamily and sighs.

 

"You could say I am the sum of my family, I suppose," he says distantly. "My mum, Gemma, and Robin--they're everything to me. They're the ones who embrace me as who I am and support my beliefs. They're the ones who stressed to me the importance of _giving back_ and changing the world through the things I can do to help. It doesn't always have to be money, and that's what _I_ forget sometimes. If you spend a day at a children's center just to interact with them, you've made a difference without signing a fancy check and never seeing the place, you know? I believe in humanity and anything that promotes the betterment of people as a whole, including equality, and that's who I strive to be."

 

There's a pause. Harry's words hang in the air.

 

"Wow," Louis says under his breath. "Remind me never to tell you about myself first, because you always give answers that make me look like a flop."

 

Harry chuckles shyly and runs a hand through his hair. He turns down a side street and checks his map.

 

"It's just my childhood wasn't halfway as interesting as yours," Harry says distractedly as he reads the map. "I was always the baby of the family. I still am. I liked books and I liked animals and I liked being alone. Which isn't half as interesting as you."

 

Louis can't help but smile ruefully. Harry is still in his childhood to some extent.

 

"You _are_ interesting, Harry," Louis says honestly. "I like your beliefs and I like your strong sense of self. That's really nice to have that, you know. A lot of people don't, and those are the type who end up doing things they regret because they didn't have a set of standards for themselves."

 

( _Case in point: Louis.)_

Harry stops suddenly in his footsteps and triumphantly looks up. They're standing in front of a shabby old building in the outskirts of town that smells strongly of lard. If Harry hadn't brought them here, Louis would've _never_ even given it a second glance.

 

He tries to hide his disgust at the smell.

 

"We're here, Louis!" Harry says happily, pulling the tickets out of his wallet. "I knew I could find my way without a phone. Here, we're just on time..."

 

Harry steps forward and pushes open a door that looks like it could fall apart if the wind blows too hard. He has to duck to fit into the doorway and beckons Louis in.

 

"Come on, Louis," he grins. Louis sighs apprehensively. He looks at Harry's earnest face and the seedy-looking shack and then sighs again.  _A job. Nothing more than a job._

 

"All right," he says in resignation. "All right, all right..."

 

He steps into the shack--which actually turns out to be a rather spacious kitchen--and is surprised to see how crowded it is. About ten people are all at countertops with aprons on, looking just as excited as Harry.

 

Louis exhales. This is absolutely _not_ what he thought Harry had in mind. 

 

"There are only pink aprons left," Harry says happily, handing Louis one. He's got a chef's hat perched on his curls crookedly. "I got you a funny hat too. Apparently it's called a _toque._ Neat, huh?"

 

"Harry," Louis grumbles, holding the bright pink apron to his chest and eyeing the hat. "I am _not_ wearing that thing--"

 

"Yes you are," Harry says with a laugh, plopping the hat on Louis' head. It falls over his eyes and Louis yelps. "Whoops--here, let me fix it--"

 

He adjusts the toque and Louis gives him an complaining look from underneath the rim of the droopy hat.

 

( _If this weren't his job, he absolutely would not be doing this.)_

 

"Don't look so _down,"_ Harry elbows him in the ribcage. "Here, tie my apron and I'll tie yours."

 

He turns around and Louis ties it neatly around his waist. Harry does the same for him.

 

They take a seat at a bench with an elderly couple.

 

"Hello," Harry smiles brightly, his crooked toque sliding jauntily off his curls. He wastes no time in greeting the couple, whereas Louis might've given them a smile and continued on with his business. _Most people would_. Of course, that isn't enough for Harry. "Nice to meet you two."

 

" _Bonjour_ ," the dark-haired woman smiles back, her eyes glowing. "It is good to meet you as well. Your names?"

 

"I'm Harry," he says cheerily. "And this is Louis. Don't mind him, he just grouchy I messed his hair with the hat."

 

Harry laughs and the woman laughs with him. Her husband is watching Louis closely.

 

Louis shifts in his seat.

 

The woman and Harry continue to exchange polite conversation. Harry is so kind and welcome with her, and she can hardly keep the smile off her face. It's clear how Harry's aura brightens everything around him, and Louis can't help but feel his chest tighten in that strange way again. Harry has such an _effect,_ such a natural cheerfulness that he leaves the people in his wake feeling as warm as if the sun had basked them in light.

 

Louis continues to watch the pair of them as the staff comes around to collect tickets, except something throws him off. His skin prickles.

 

It's the woman's husband. He's still looking at Louis closely.

 

Louis avoids his gaze hastily and collects the two tickets off the table. He hands them to a staff member and nods his thanks when the stubs are handed back to him.

 

Louis shifts in his seat again as the crowd hushes.

 

An older woman steps from a back room. She's using a cane and her eyes are thick with cataracts, but there's a sharpness about her that commands respect. She doesn't even have to say a word before the whole room is quiet.

 

"Welcome," she wheezes. "I am Madame Babineaux, and I am the Master Cheesemaker of Paris. Welcome to my kitchen, my home, my studio."

 

Her voice is thick with a French accent.

 

"Today I will be showing you the art of cheese making," she continues. "We will take a brief tour of the kitchens. If you please."

 

There's a rush to get up, and Harry waits for Louis with bright eyes. He looks so excited.

 

Louis sighs.

 

They follow the crowd out of the workspace and into a very hot, very _crowded_ room. It's full of ovens and racks of cheese that extend high into the ceiling. Harry looks around in wonder and Louis tries not to lose his breakfast from the smell of it all.

 

He quickly loses interest in what Madame Babineaux is saying. It's not because he's _bored_ per say (although cheese isn't exactly a stimulating topic) but the room is so hot and so crowded that Louis can only think of his misery. His shirt clings to his back and he feels about six people pressed close to his body. He doesn't think he can survive five more minutes in this _hell room._ Madame Babineaux seems unperturbed by the fact half her class is panting with sweat trickling down their faces.

 

Harry stands in front of him. His body is pressed close-- _so close--_ and Louis can smell the scent of his conditioner, the scent of his cologne and even the whiff of his laundry soap. Harry's shoulderblades stand out sharply against the fabric of his shirt, and Louis can see the muscles of his back underneath the cotton. Harry has such a nice figure, such nice broad shoulders and angled features and Louis wonders how much better he would look without that shirt on--

 

Someone bumps into him. Louis startles and then quickly realizes they're filing out of the cooking room.

 

_Thank god._

Once back into the cool air of the workspace, Louis feels like he can breathe again, both mentally and physically. It's a lot easier to concentrate when Harry isn't pressed so close to him and the heat doesn't threaten to overcome him.

 

Louis exhales deeply and brushes his damp hair off his forehead.

 

Harry slides into the stool next to him and he smiles at Louis brightly. His face is shining with sweat too, but he looks lovely with flushed cheeks and damp hair. Again, Louis can't help his mind from running to places it shouldn't--

 

Louis turns away and blinks a few times. The old man is still staring at him. Louis _really_ doesn't get his problem.

 

Thankfully, Madame Babineaux has now moved to an explanation of handmade milk and utensils used to make both the cheese and various other dairy products, so Louis has an excuse to distract himself. She moves with such fluidity Louis finds it hard to believe she could be his _grandnan,_ but he watches nonetheless. It's halfway interesting now that they aren't locked in the oven room, baking alongside the cheese.

 

Except the explanation continues on and on and Louis does _not_ have that kind of attention span. By the one-hour mark, he's slipping into a dose and by the hour and a half mark, he's asleep. It takes the grinding sound of stools against rock ground to startle Louis into a halfway conscious state.

 

He raises his head blearily. Harry doesn't even notice he's still half asleep.

 

"I'll go get the materials for us to start," he says eagerly. "The herbs are underneath the table. Get parsley, chives and tarragon."

 

Louis nods dimly. He has no idea what that means.

 

Harry and the old woman go to the front of the workshop, chatting cheerily. _They're a good match for each other,_ Louis thinks wryly as he turns to the old man, _better than the one I get, at least._

 

He takes a deep breath.

 

"Excuse me sir," Louis asks politely. "Can you tell me which herbs are which? I'm not really kitchen savvy."

 

"Umph," the man says gruffly. "Your boyfriend seems very into culinary arts. That got lost on you, eh?"

 

Louis stops short in his movements for the herbs. His jaw drops.

 

"Oh, no, no no," he laughs in disbelief, shaking his head. "He's not my boyfriend. We're just friends."

 

"No," the old man says bluntly. "I have been watching. I know these things, boy." 

 

"I'm not _in love_ with him," Louis waves it off with a snort. "And nor is he with me. We've known each other for about twenty-four hours."

 

"I fell in love with my wife in the first twenty minutes I spent with her," he says shortly. His dark, beady eyes are fixed on Louis' face. "It's the common misperception. Love doesn't need years for the seed to be sown--it's the time it takes for the flower to bloom that requires patience. The chives are on your right, by the way. The tarragon has the long, narrow leaves. The parsley has jagged ones."

 

"Okay," Louis says uncertainly, reaching for the clump of grass-looking stalks. "Thanks, sir."

 

The man doesn't reply. They don't talk again.

 

Louis is unsettled.

 

"I've got all the cheese materials," Harry says happily as he arrives back at the table. Louis has never been so relieved to see him, even when he's dumping a load of foreign-looking objects from his arms onto table, and consequently, on Louis' lap. "And you've found the herbs! Excellent, excellent... Margie was just telling me about how she's studied culinary arts for nearly twenty years! Isn't that fascinating, Louis?"

 

"Yeah," Louis gives an attempt at an interested smile, but his ears are still ringing from the conversation he just had. "Really nice."

 

Harry looks as pleased as could be and Margie, the woman, gazes at Harry as if he were her most beloved grandson. It didn't take her long to be wrapped around Harry's little finger and she doesn't even _realize_ it. Louis wonders if he's the same way around Harry.

 

He laughs at the mere idea. Of  _course_  not. This is a _job._ A path to the CEO position. _Nothing more._

"Madame Babineaux explained that the process for Boursin cheese isn't particularly hard, but it takes a while for it to settle," Harry says knowledgeably as he arranges the things on the desktop. "She's made the mixture for us, and all we have to do is add the herbs and process it. Did you chop the herbs, Louis?"

 

"No," he mumbles. "Sorry--here, let me do it--"

 

They both reach for the knife at the same time and their hands brush. Harry laughs in wonder as he looks back up at Louis and Louis snatches his hand back in embarrassment. _Jesus Christ._ The old man is watching them again, and Margie smiles just as widely as Harry.

 

Louis takes the knife and keeps his head down.

 

Harry makes a sound in his throat and hums under his breath happily. Louis cuts the herbs with a fierce vehemence that a set of vegetables _surely_ don't deserve, but Louis has to channel his emotions somewhere and the herbs are the unlucky victims.

 

The result is a soupy-like mix of greens. They're almost _pulped._  

 

"You didn't have to _juice_ them," Harry laughs as he scoops the load of herbs into a cup. "But no matter. Thanks, Louis."

 

Louis lets out a little _mhm_ of acknowledgement and decides to excuse himself to the bathroom for a bit of sanity.

 

The bathroom ends up being nothing more than a little stall with a leaking faucet, but it's good enough for Louis. He turns on the water and cups some into his hand before splashing it onto his face. It feels refreshing, especially after the heat of the oven room and his own perspiration. He does it a few more times and towels off quickly. Louis takes a deep breath, looks at his pink apron and crooked _toque_ in the mirror, sighs again, and leaves.

 

Harry is waiting for him at the their workspace eagerly. He's got the cheese processed already, and it's waiting to go into the molds. The couple next to them have already finished their molds and they're shaking hands with Madame Babineaux, their tiny bags filled with prepared cheese to go.

 

Louis slides into the stool next to Harry and puts on a brave attempt at a smile.

 

"Are we close to finishing?" Louis asks.

 

"Yeah, we've got to put the cheese into this mold and then give it to Madame  Babineaux," Harry says with furrowed brow. He motions for Louis to hold the mold as he pours in the thick, heavy-smelling mixture. "She'll finish it off for us, but that could take a while. She's giving everyone samples of what it would taste like when we were done."

 

"Mhm," Louis murmurs, watching Harry's curls escape his toque as he fills each mold.  "This was interesting, Harry. Really. Thank you so much."

 

There's a few moments of silence as Harry finishes putting the cheese into the mold. He sits back up, looking extremely proud of himself.

 

To Louis, the whole thing looks _foul_ and smells just as bad as it appears.

 

"We're finished!" Harry grins, picking up the tray. "And no problem, Louis. I had a lot of fun too. Margie was lovely."

 

Madame  Babineaux comes around to collect their finished product and even gives it a nod of approval. She hands them an extra piece of cheese in a nicely-wrapped bag and congratulates them on the best first-attempt Boursin cheese she's ever seen.

 

Harry practically bursts in pride.

 

Twenty minutes later when they're outside the cheese shop, Louis is feeling extraordinarily tired and his legs ache. He's moderately hungry and not in a very good mood, which is inconvenient because Harry seems on top of the world. He can't stop talking about how nice the whole morning was and even though Louis isn't really listening, he doesn't notice and plows on.

 

"Harry," Louis says abruptly. Harry has just finished his sentence. "Can I give a suggestion?"  

 

"Oh?" Harry looks thrown off by the change of subject, but doesn't let it phase him. "Of course, Louis. I'm all ears."

 

"Well," Louis starts, his eyes cast on the busy street around them, "I was thinking that if there weren't too many people, we could bring our cheese and get some wine and have a proper snack by the Seine river. It's not too far from here, and they sell wine _everywhere,_ so."

 

"Sounds nice," Harry grins. His smile fades momentarily before he adds, "I don't drink though. I never have."

 

"When in Paris, Harry," Louis laughs and nods forward. "A bit of wine won't hurt anyone. Here, I know the place."

 

Louis has a very limited knowledge of Paris in general, but he knows where the essentials are--namely, the wine and the good clubs. He's been here with Liam before a few years back and they found a really nice wine shop right on the edge of the Seine--

 

It's still there. Louis sees the sign glowing from the street.

 

He's triumphant as he opens the door ten minutes later, out of breath and looking proud. Harry's next to him, clutching his side and looking a lot _less_ excited. It was probably unnecessary to jog here, but Louis acted on an impulse and darted through the streets.

 

It's been a long time since he's done any sort of running like that. His football days are a thing of the past, as well as his fitness levels.

 

Still. Louis has good wine and the radar and he's quick about his business of purchasing a overly-expensive bottle of Rothschild. He doesn't even blink as he hands over his black card and the charge rings on the screen.

 

Harry is still looking apprehensive as Louis emerges from the shop with his wine in hand.

 

"What does it taste like?" Harry asks in a small voice as they cross the street to the park. "Does it burn?"

 

"No, no," Louis laughs gently. Harry _really_ is inexperienced in the ways of the world. "You'll like this stuff. It's not like beer or vodka or anything like that. It's sophisticated."

 

They find an area underneath a tree and they sit down together. Louis' feet are aching from all the walking and he makes a mental note to offer to pay for a taxi next time. He can only imagine how Harry feels in his boots with a heel.

 

But Harry looks pretty satisfied. He hasn't complained all day, and he still looks happy as he pulls off a chunk of cheese for Louis and one for himself.

 

"Here you go," he grins, handing Louis a piece. " _B_ _onne appetie_."

 

They both take a bite at the same time.

 

And--much to Louis' surprise--the cheese is amazing. It melts on Louis' tongue within seconds, and a burst of flavors explode in his mouth. Louis audibly moans as he swallows it.

 

" _God,_ that's good. How much do we have again?"

 

"Enough for a long time," Harry laughs as he hands Louis another chunk. " _Mhm._ It's so wonderful."

 

They eat the cheese in silence for a moment, enjoying the serene view of the park. The Seine itself isn't a particularly clean river and the street is explosive with the sounds of the city, but the little area Louis and Harry have is in the eye of the storm. It's quiet here and everyone around them looks happy, at peace. The sky is grey and the Eiffel tower stands tall against the Paris backdrop and Louis feels something close to _contentment_.

 

There's only one thing that would make the situation better. _A good drink._

 

Harry is watching Louis out of his heavily-lidded eyes as he pulls out the wine. Louis opens it with an expert hand and motions for Harry to come closer.

 

"Now it's my turn to treat you," Louis teases under his breath. "First I want you to test the scent. The technical term is called _wafting_ and it's a common practice with fine wine. Here, just watch me--"

 

Louis sweeps his hand across the opening of the neck and inhales the draft his motion created. He closes his eyes in pleasure and inhales once more, this time deeply.

 

" _Mhmm,_ " he moans, passing the bottle towards Harry. "That is _incredible._ You try, Harry."

 

Harry looks uncertain as he imitates Louis' action. He looks slightly _less_ impressed with the wine than Louis does, but then again Harry couldn't tell store-bought wine from Bordeaux wine.

 

Still, it was worth a try.

 

"Now for the first sip," Louis nods at Harry. "It's all yours."

 

Harry gives him an apprehensive look as he tips the bottle back. He winces a little bit as the strong flavors assault his tastebuds, which aren't used to such a thing, and then he smacks his lips in wonder.

 

"That's good, Louis. That's _really_ good."

 

"Hardly anyone would disagree with that statement," Louis laughs as Harry passes him the bottle. "Welcome to the world of good wine."

 

He takes a generous sip and feels himself physically slump in the pleasure of it. This wine rivals even what he had last night, and surely beats anything he buys in London. Louis can't think of a word that accuracy sums up how he feels about this wine, but _incredible_ comes to mind a lot.

 

Still, it feels like a gross understatement.

 

"So, Louis," Harry lies back down on the grass and curls his body close to Louis' own. The wind blows his curls across his pink cheeks. "Can you tell me what your family's like? I talk about mine all the time, but I always forget to ask about yours."

 

"Well, of course," Louis likes their physical closeness. It feels right. "I'm the oldest of my sisters. I've got none that are biologically mine, but the girls feel like my blood line. There's Félicité, Lottie, Daisy and Phoebe, and they all look _just_ like our mum, Johannah. Wide blue eyes, too kind for their own good, and a sense of humor that'll keep you on your toes."

 

Louis laughs to himself softly before taking another deep sip of wine.

 

"This isn't really well known, but Mark isn't my biological dad. My real father is rubbish, to be honest, and I dropped my birth name--Louis Troy Austin--for my stepdad's name, Mark Tomlinson, when my mum remarried," Louis says quietly.  "I was young when they split, but my father has had a way of popping back into my life in unnecessary ways. The only unfortunate thing about the whole matter is Georgia, my final half sister on his side. I never get to see her."

 

"I'm sorry, Louis," Harry says sincerely. He takes the wine bottle and sips it again before continuing thoughtfully. "Family is tough, really. A lot of things are tough."

 

"Yeah, I suppose," Louis murmurs. "I liked growing up in a big family though, and I loved being the oldest. Lottie is the closest to my age--I was about six when she came along--and I remember helping mum dress her and brush her hair and such. Lottie grew to like me so much that by time she was three, I was the only one she listened to. It drove mum _mad._ Not much has changed since then--Lottie is still my partner in crime--but she's eighteen and off to uni and I'm always working and that makes things tough. Being so much older than the rest of my sisters has made it really hard for me to keep up on their lives when I'm trying to sort out my own."

 

There's a pause. Louis looks over at Harry, at his profile, and his chest gets that funny tight feeling again.

 

Harry's eyes are glassy as he stares at the sky. His long eyelashes turn blonde at the very tips, and his curls fall over his forehead. His nose is sharp and defined and his jawline is starting to become more pronounced as he grows into adulthood. There's no stubble dusting his smooth alabaster skin, unlike Louis' scruff, and Louis finds himself wondering how often Harry has to shave to maintain such a nice, clear face.

 

His lips are stained with wine when he finally opens them to reply.

 

"Siblings are our first friends," Harry smiles to himself, unaware Louis is watching him with an ache in his chest. "I like hearing about you, Louis. All I knew about you a week ago were things in newspapers or articles or on television or what my mum had told me. It's so easy to forget there's a _person_ behind that name, a person with a story and a family and special traits that make them unique, rather that be excellent wine taste, a lovely voice and the brightest blue eyes I've _ever_ seen on a person."

 

Harry turns to Louis and finds Louis already gazing at him gently.

 

It's a charged moment. Harry is looking at Louis in a way Louis has never been looked at before and Louis' heart is beating louder than it should be. All he can think about is the way Harry edges closer, his eyes soft and filled with a sweetness that makes Louis feel like jelly and his _lips,_ his ridiculously obscene _wine stained lips--_

 

He wants to kiss Harry. The realization hits him like a blow to the stomach and takes his breath away. _He wants to kiss Harry._ He wants to taste the wine on his lips and tangle his hands in his hair and smell his cologne on Louis' skin--

 

But Louis is not stupid.

 

Louis has mastered self-control, and he's not drunk enough to follow dangerous impulses like this one. He knows submitting to it would be a fatal mistake, and the CEO position is worth more than one silly urge.

 

_Louis reasserts the situation._

 

"You've got a bit of cheese here," Louis smiles steadily, bringing his finger to the corner of Harry's mouth. Harry shudders almost imperceptibly under his touch. "There. I got it."

 

Louis lets his hand linger a second more, his eyes fixed on Harry, and then drops it.

 

The moment loses its power.

 

Harry finally releases a shaky breath and it occurs to Louis he might've not breathed in the entire twenty seconds or so. It again reminds Louis how young Harry is, how eagerly he wants to please others and how desperately he wants to feel some sort of love in return. It's a bit scary how much power Louis has over Harry, how easily he could give Harry what he wants. 

Still. Louis finds himself thinking he's not that different from Harry in the love regard.

 

 _Yes,_ he's older and he knows how to hide his emotions cleverly, unlike Harry's blaring transparency, but that doesn't make their similarities any less valid. Louis hasn't been romantically involved with _anyone_ since he turned twenty (minus the occasional hook-up) and there's only so much isolation a person can take. Humans are made for intimacy on a deeper level, and Louis himself is starved for that physical closeness. It only makes sense for someone as sweet and good-looking as Harry to spark that feeling deep inside him, that urge to taste the wine on his lips and to feel his curls beneath his fingertips. The fact it's _Harry_ doesn't mean anything, Louis reminds himself firmly, _it could be anybody._

 

Still. Louis bitterly wishes Harry were unattractive and pretentious so it would he less of a problem. Emotions, whether it be dislike, affection, passion, sentimental feelings, it all complicates things in ways they don't have to be, and _clearly_ Harry is set on making this as difficult as possible.

 

He exhales and closes his eyes. The cool wind whips across his face.

 

Harry doesn't seem to want to speak either, so the pair of them finish the wine and cheese in silence.

 

After all, _what more is there to say?_

[*]

 

When Louis arrives home late Monday night, he's so worn-out he barely makes it through the door.

 

Niall is right beside him, his ridiculously red suitcase clicking on the hardwood floors. It was sort of an unspoken agreement that Niall would crash here for the night when they were dropped off, seeing as they're both too exhausted to do much else.

 

They don't speak much.

 

Louis flicks on the light and checks the mail on his countertop with tired eyes. Mostly bills. He sighs and tosses them onto his desk. _He'll worry about that later._ Niall is already making his way to the guest room, and it seems like a good idea to Louis, so he ditches his luggage in the living room and follows suit.

 

His own bed never felt so lovely.

 

Louis audibly sighs as he crawls beneath the sheets. He's had a massive weekend. A lot has changed since he last slept here, and Louis feels a little weak thinking about it. He knows there's a lot more to follow suit and he's unsure if he's excited or nervous.

 

Mostly nervous, he thinks.

 

Louis doesn't fall asleep right away because scenes from Paris flash in his mind's eye at a dizzying pace. It keeps him awake for a while longer, his hands folded underneath his head as he stares into the darkness. Green eyes and dimpled smiles find their way into his thoughts, and Louis has a hard time shaking them off.

 

 _It's a common misconception._ Louis remembers the way the old man fixed him with his stare. _Love doesn't need years for the seed to be sown--it's the time it takes for the flower to bloom that requires patience._

Louis buries his face into his pillow and prays to God Harry leaves him be _just_ for a few hours.

 

Maybe it's the jetlag. Maybe Louis is going off the deep end. Maybe he's gone mental with exhaustion.

 

 _Yeah_ , Louis thinks decisively as he closes his eyes, _that must be it._

-

 

The week passes by intolerably slow.

 

Without work to distract himself, Louis stays up ridiculously late and sleeps most of the day. His waking hours are spent watching films he doesn't care about and texting Harry. Which is okay, Louis supposes, but he feels rather silly, curled on the sofa as he waits for his phone to buzz with a message from Harry.

 

 _Yes,_ they've been talking almost non-stop on just about every subject known to mankind since Paris. Harry keeps him updated and tells him lots of sweet quips about himself, _always_ asking about Louis eagerly, and Louis thinks it's adorable, really. Whether it be a picture of what Harry's having for lunch, or a joke he just _had_ to relay to Louis, Harry is always keeping him in the loop. Which Louis doesn't mind. Their conversations are lighthearted and friendly, _maybe_  even a little flirty at times. And again--Louis doesn't mind. It's all part of the game--the game he's playing  _very_ well. He just wishes he had something to do between Harry and badly-made films.

 

So he invites Liam over.

 

It's Friday night when he finally has time to pop in. Liam looks hassled and more stressed than he was last time Louis saw him, but he also looks happier in a way Louis can't pinpoint. His eyes are a little brighter and his mouth is a little more animated when he talks, which means _something_ is up--Louis just can't figure it out. Thankfully, he doesn't need to--Liam wastes no time in telling him the news.

 

"Louis," he moans, closing his eyes. He's lounged on the sofa, a hand pressed over his eyes. "You don't _understand._ Zayn is so amazing. _It's unreal._ He's artistic and he's _so_ intelligent and he's quiet, but he's got this sparkle in his eye that tells you he knows more than he lets on. And _Jesus Christ,_ he's got an incredible sense of humor--"

 

_Louis should've figured._

 

"Okay, okay," Louis cuts him off with a laugh. He sips the wine in his glass. It's the very same they had in Paris, and Louis made a special trip back to the store to get more just to share with Liam. Getting it through the airport took cleverness on Louis' part, but it all worked out in the end. "I get you've got an intense crush. No, scratch that. I get you're _obsessed._ When do I get to meet this wonderman?"

 

"I dunno," Liam sighs and opens his eyes. "Louis, I think I'm in _love."_

He says it with a dramatic flourish of his hand and Louis shakes his head wearily.

 

"I'll say. You're love-drunk, mate."

 

"And it's _great_ ," Liam says dreamily. He pauses before raising his head. "But enough about me. Let's talk about Louis, and how Louis didn't text me hardly _at all_ while you were gone. I'm in the dark about the whole Harry situation."

 

The smile slips from Louis' face, only to be replaced by an exasperated look.

 

"In the eyes of Mark, it went well," he says sheepishly. "But for me, not so much."

 

"Why?" Liam sits up, raising in eyebrow.

 

Louis closes his eyes.

 

"Put yourself in my shoes for a moment," he sighs. "You've just been offered your dream in exchange for undermining a nineteen year-old in the worst way possible. Which is awful at the very least. Now add in the complicating factors--for example, how he's sweet and ridiculously warmhearted and has the nicest laugh you've ever heard. Then there's the particular detail about how he's _beautiful._ I'm not being sappy or anything, Liam--it's just the truth. He's a really good looking kid with the greenest eyes you've ever seen and a character carved out of gold and you think you like him--strictly on a friend basis, of course--and then remember the real point behind spending time with him. Now, tell me, Liam, how would you feel?"

 

There's a pause. Liam blinks a few times.

 

"Okay, point made. It's shitty. Really shitty."

 

"Yeah," Louis takes another long drink from his wineglass. _"You're telling me."  
_

Silence quickly sneaks into the spaces of the conversation.

 

 Louis refills his glass with more wine and hopes it burns away the thoughts running through his mind, but there's no relief in the bottom of the bottle. Louis knows--somewhere buried underneath his denial--that no amount of alcohol could make Harry's green eyes fade from memory. It's a realization that's both warm and terrifying at the same time.

 

Louis doesn't say anything more the entire afternoon.

 

[*]

 

 

Harry comes over later that night for a film.

 

It's spontaneous and not really planned, but Louis feels his heart race nonetheless. Harry has been busy with work all week, and they couldn't arrange for a time to hang out without conflicting schedules. He feels stupid, but he's kind of missed being around Harry physically. Which is absurd and not at all how it's supposed to be, but when it comes to Harry, nothing is normal.

 

He arrives at eight o'clock that night, dressed in a jumper and carrying a bag of pastries.

 

Louis holds open the door and ushers him in with a small smile, feeling his chest ache in that funny way again. Their eyes linger on each other for a moment too long, and then Harry steps in.

 

"Hi," Louis says softly, taking in Harry's windblown hair and pink cheeks. "Glad you could make it."

 

"Me too," Harry blinks at Louis like he's trying to focus on what he's saying. He realizes he's been staring a moment too long and adds with an embarrassed rush, "I brought pastries, by the way."

 

"Sounds nice," Louis chuckles to himself and takes the muffin Harry hands him. "Thanks."

 

'"No problem." Harry's ears are still a bit pink. He fumbles with the pastry bag nervously.

 

Silence follows and it's a bit uncomfortable, Louis admits. He leads Harry to the living room and sits on the sofa. Harry looks uncertain at first--and then he sits right next to Louis. _Literally._ Their thighs are touching--practically overlapping--and Harry's shoulders dig into Louis. He doesn't seem bothered by it, which is ironic to Louis. He's got about six chairs in the living room and six more feet on this sofa alone, yet Harry is practically on his lap. Louis doesn't mind as much as he should,

 

 Still, he ignores it as he opens mouth to speak.

 

"Make yourself at home," he smiles, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Sorry about Niall's mess by the way--he's been kipping here lately, and he's absolutely hopeless when it comes to being tidy."

 

Harry laughs loudly, but quickly brings a hand up to stifle it. Louis frowns.

 

"Why do you cover your mouth when you laugh?" Louis asks with furrowed eyebrows. He meets Harry's gaze and his chest feels funny again. "You've got such a lovely smile and wonderful teeth and I don't understand it."

 

Harry's cheeks pink prettily. He bites his lip.

 

"I dunno..." he says shyly, playing with the end of his hair. "People have said I'm too loud or too obnoxious and I don't want to be embarrassing."

 

"Bullshit _,"_ Louis says firmly, waving his hand. " _Embarrassing_ is Niall leaving his pack of condoms right next his _Vogue_ magazine. Having a lovely laugh is not embarrassing. I don't know who told you that, but if you ever run across them again, kindly tell them to keep their mouths off things that don't concern them."

 

Harry nods with a happy smile on his face. He edges closer to Louis, clearly trying to be subtle, and even though Louis is _quite aware_ of Harry's intention, he pretends like he doesn't notice. Harry is obviously inexperienced in the world of seduction, but Louis can't fault the effort.

 

"So," he lets out a deep breath, turning to Harry. "What film would you like to watch?"

 

He flicks though the channels and then Harry lets out a small _oh_ of longing. Louis pauses and raises an eyebrow. He'd just passed over what could be the _cheesiest_ film he'd ever seen in his entire twenty-four years of existence.

"Harry...." Louis says slowly. "Did you just voice your vote for _The Titanic?"_

_"_ It's just started!" Harry says defensively. "Plus it's brilliant. Leonardo Dicaprio is the single--no, _one_ of the single--most attractive men I've ever seen."

 

Louis can't argue there.

 

"All right, so if Leo is on that list--which I agree with wholeheartedly," Louis says carefully, "who else has the honor?"

 

"Dylan O'Brien," Harry ticks the names off his fingers. "Ryan Gosling, James Fraco, and you."

 

He says it very noncommittally and Louis admires the smoothness it of it all.

 

"Well done, Harry," Louis nods in approval. "You've successfully made your case. _Titanic_ it is."

 

Harry laughs happily, and this time he doesn't even cover his mouth.

 

-

 

Louis' impossibly short attention span has always been an issue.

 

It's haunted him since his school days where endless history lessons were the bane of his existence. Meetings in the office still threaten to lose him if they don't move along fast enough, and _The Titanic_ proves to be no exception.

 

Louis stops paying attention after the one hour mark.

 

Instead of listening to Harry's dreamy sighs each time Jack and Rose have a scene together, Louis finds himself watching Harry. Watching the way he bites his lip subconsciously, watching the way his curls cascade over his forehead and dance in front of his eyes, watching the way he blinks, his long eyelashes brushing his cheeks, watching the way his glassy green eyes begin to get sleepy, watching the way his chest rises and falls slowly--

 

Louis feels it again. That stabbing pain, deep in his ribcage, like a dagger.

 

He tries to breathe, but Louis physically can't. It's like Harry is clouding his air, sucking his oxygen, clogging his airways, infecting his mind with those jade eyes and that bright laugh and Louis it's _suffocating_ in the best way breathlessness can feel. He's in deep, Louis knows it, but sitting here next to Harry in this moment makes _everything_ else seem so insignificant.

 

Louis has tried justifying the feeling, but tonight it's hitting him stronger than ever. It chokes out thoughts of the company, of his father, of what's on the line. Harry is wearing him down, little by little, piece by piece, uncovering the quickly-emerging truth behind the last few days with Harry. Louis knows texting Harry doesn't get him any closer to the deal. He doesn't  _have_ to. He knows inviting Harry over for films doesn't push him towards the CEO position. He _wants_ to. Louis is genuinely beginning to enjoy just  _being_ with Harry, and it's making him realize a second disturbing fact.  _  
_

_He wants Harry._

 

He wants Harry in all the best ways, but he wants him in the worst ways too. He wants to brush Harry's curls out of his face, and then he wants to grab them at the nape of his neck and leave blaring purple marks down his skin. Louis wants to kiss him softly after a long day, and then he wants to kiss him furiously, bruising those obscene lips. He wants to stroke Harry's chest as they lay under the covers, and he wants to leave angry red scratches down his perfectly-smooth back as they lose themselves in each other's touches--

 

Louis breathes shakily. He has a hard-on. A _very_ inconvenient hard-on.

 

He just doesn't _get_ it. How is Harry so sweet, so innocent, so endearing--and yet _utterly_ salacious at the same time? His pink lips can be curled into a pretty smile, but then the next moment, he's running his tongue across them, wetting the plump lower lip _ever_ so slightly--

 

That's _it._ Louis is losing it.  _He really is._

Louis feels about bad about it, but he _needs_ to use the bathroom. He mutters an excuse and untangles himself from the sofa and goes to the bathroom, locking the door securely.

 

Louis exhales. He looks down at the bulge in his sweatpants, and closes his eyes.

 

No amount of cold water splashed on his face will make _that_ go away. It definitely won't make the Harry problem go away. It won't make the whole issue disappear. But Louis feels productive when he's dripping with ice cold water and _very_ in-control of the situation. Yes, Louis feels like he's _definitely_ got the upper hand.

 

He snorts and flushes the toilet for no real reason and then joins Harry back on the sofa.

 

The scene playing the screen is the infamous glacier impact scene, and Harry is sighing sadly as Louis sits back down and throws a blanket over the pair them. Harry edges ever closer to Louis, and then, without comment, places his head on Louis' shoulder. His soft curls tickle Louis' neck, and his small contented _mhmm_ makes Louis' chest ache again.

 

And without thinking, Louis wraps his arm around Harry's shoulders and pulls him closer.

 

It's kind of instinctual, and Louis is a bit surprised by his own daring. Is he crossing some sort of line? _Probably._ Is he letting on too much? _Definitely._ Does he really care? _No._

It feels so natural, so easy, so effortless with Harry. _Everything_ feels that way. He doesn't know if that's how it's supposed to be or if he's just losing it. Louis wants to say something, wants to address the growing ache in his chest, wants the ask exactly _where_ this is heading, but Harry seems perfectly content to just be near Louis. Is _that_ normal? _Fuck_ if Louis knows.

 

"My heart is beating so fast," Harry whispers, raising his head to look up at Louis. His eyes are sleepy. "I get so stressed out during this part of the film. Feel."

 

Louis puts his hand uncertainty on Harry's chest. Harry guides his hand over his heart, and holds it there.

 

He's watching Louis' face transform from uncertainty to wonder. Louis laughs shakily.

 

"Wow, Harry," he says softly. "Proper rabbit, you are."

 

"This film does that to me," he murmurs, placing his head back on Louis' shoulder. This time he brings his hand up to Louis' chest too. "I always pray Jack doesn't die. Every single time."

 

Louis wraps his arm around Harry's shoulder again and sighs into his hair. It's sweet-smelling and incredibly soft.

 

"That's why the inevitable sucks," Louis murmurs. "Because it _is_ so inevitable. Blessing and a curse, I suppose."

 

"Yeah," Harry says sleepily. "But right now, it feels mostly like a blessing."

 

Louis isn't sure when _they_ became part of the inevitable, but the truth in Harry's voice rings clear. Obviously there's something coming, something inevitable, and Louis has a feeling that he's got more control over the outcome than he'd like. It's simple really. He betrays Harry and gets everything he's ever wanted. He keeps Harry and gets something he's never had. It's his choice to make solely because Harry doesn't know half the story and Louis is sure no one else has ever been in this situation before.

 

It should be easy, but somehow, the simple things catch Louis up the most. 

 

"Blessing," Louis yawns, pulling Harry closer. "Yeah. _Blessing."_

There's a pause, a very deliberate one, and Louis knows Harry is about to take the conversation to a new, probably awkward topic.

 

Like he said, Harry is _very_ transparent.

 

"Louis," he starts shyly. "Are you... seeing anyone? You don't have to answer of course--I just didn't want..."

 

Harry trails off, his face red, and Louis--

 

_Louis is hardly ever wrong about these things._

 

"No," Louis laughs quietly. "No, I'm not."

 

"Okay," Harry breathes. He looks a little happier, but another shadow crosses his face. He looks embarrassed. "And... er... you know about my--sexuality?"

 

"I could give a fair guess."

 

"And as for you--?"

 

"Harry," Louis brushes a curl off his forehead. "What do _you_ think?"

 

"Well, you never know," he laughs nervously. "I'm glad, Louis. Really glad. That could've been awkward if you had a girlfriend or something,"

 

" _Christ,"_ Louis says darkly. "My father asks all the time about when I'm going to find one. It's awful."

 

Harry pauses. He furrows his eyebrows.

 

"So your parents don't know?"

 

"Absolutely _not,"_ Louis sighs. "They might disinherit me if they did. Maybe even worse."

 

"Why?" Harry's eyes are ablaze. "That's _awful_."

 

"A lot of things are awful," Louis murmurs in reply. "And I make a lot of sacrifices for my parents and for my job. This is one of them."

 

"That's not fair," Harry says sullenly, burrowing his face back into Louis' shoulder. "I'm sorry, Louis."

 

"Nah, don't be sorry," Louis says dismissively. He plays with Harry's hair. "I'm happy here with you. This is nice."

 

There's a pause. Harry's breath catches and he doesn't move. His body--so warm against Louis' own--tenses.

 

"Maybe we can do it again," Harry breathes. "More often, I mean."

 

Louis freezes too, aware of what Harry is implying. Being with Harry isn't as platonic as Louis would like in theory, and everything they do feels like more than just acquaintanceship. Almost like a _date._ And now Harry is proposing _another_ one--which sounds nice to Louis, but not to _Louis Tomlinson._ Conflict of interests, games and counter games, it all makes Louis dizzy.

 

But still. He has a choice. And for once, Louis knows what he wants, not what  _Louis Tomlinson_ wants.

 

"Yeah," Louis smiles. "Yeah, I'd like that. A lot, actually."

 

Harry lets out a little _mhm_ of pleasure as Louis keeps playing with his hair. They don't talk for the rest of the film--Harry tears up when Jack dies and Louis pretends not to notice because _clearly_ Harry is trying to hide it--and by time the clock strikes ten p.m, they're both exhausted.

 

Harry is already half asleep, his eyelids droopy and his breathing slow. Louis doesn't have the heart to remind him that he probably should head home, so he just _doesn't_. Let Gemma walk in on Harry sleeping on his chest, let Niall walk in, let his _father_ walk in--Louis doesn't _care._ Harry is with him and Harry trusts him and that means more to him than anything else right now.

 

Louis yawns too. He's tired. And he's happy. And he's with Harry, in the heart of London, the city that never sleeps.

 

 _Blessings indeed_ **.**

**[*]**

" _Louis. Louis. Louuuuuis."_

"No, Niall. _Absolutely_ not. I'm going to kick you out of my flat."

 

"It would be nice to invite him to dinner!" Niall says indignity. "After I walked in on you two practically spooning, I reckon he deserves a homemade meal!"

 

"It wasn't _spooning._ We were watching a film," Louis pinches the bridge of his nose. He just got back from the grocery store and Niall's already assaulting him. He hasn't even been home ten minutes. "You're such a little _shit._ You only want me to invite him over to feed your own curiosity!"

 

"Well, _obviously,"_ Niall rolls his eyes. "I want to meet your boyfriend."

 

"For _god's sake,_ Niall, not again..."

 

"But I reckon that complicates things," Niall grins devilishly, plowing on, "fancying the boy who your father says is strictly off-limits. Star crossed lovers, you are."

 

"My father doesn't even think about boys when he thinks about my romance life," Louis mutters. "I think you forget how little known that particular detail is."

 

"Has your dearest dad been inquiring about the progress of the mission, then?" Niall still has a wicked look in his eye. "Asking for updates and such?"

 

"Well, of course..." Louis raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

 

"I reckon you've been leaving out certain details," Niall sniggers. "Like the fact you were cuddling with him. Or that you fell asleep together looking _far_ too cozy. Or how Harry kissed you back in France when we were leaving."

 

" _Jesus,_ it was a kiss on the cheek!" Louis cries out. "It's customary in France to greet people like that!"

 

"I didn't see him kissing _me_ when he left..."

 

"Come off of it, Niall," Louis huffs. "What did you want him to do, give you a blowie on the way out too?"

 

"Maybe he gave _you_ one."  Niall wags an eyebrow. "You certainly got luckier than I did in the city of love."

 

Louis shoves Niall off his bed and goes to the kitchen. _He needs some alcohol._

_-_

If he thought Liam stopping over would make anything better, Louis was severely wrong.

Louis thinks he's going to kill the next person who says _Harry_ and _boyfriend_ in the same sentence. It doesn't help that Harry has been texting him nonstop and the both Niall and Liam keep stealing his phone and reading through his messages. They're beside themselves in glee as Harry sends more of his _xx's_ and _H's_ and Louis doesn't think there's enough hate in the world to cover what he feels for the pair of them.

 

After about thirty minutes of complete _foolishness,_ Louis snaps.

 

"Are you two _quite_ finished?"

 

Niall sniggers and nudges Liam in the side. He whispers something in his ear and they both dissolve into laughter.

 

Hilarious. _Really._ So funny.

 

"Yeah, yeah, we're done," Liam bites his lip. "I actually have something serious to say."

 

Niall is still laughing into his sleeve and Louis briefly wonders how nice it would've been to leave him in France.

 

Louis doesn't give Liam the curtesy of replying.

 

"Right, well... While you were getting cozy with Harry," Liam starts, burying his face in his arm to stop from laughing again, "I hit it off really well with Zayn, and date number two is this Saturday."

 

Louis raises an eyebrow. He's not _too_ interested. Liam doesn't get him back that easy.

 

"Hmph," he says gruffly, folding his arms across his chest. "Okay. Continue, Romeo."

 

"Shut _up,"_ Liam laughs sheepishly. "I'm serious. I actually like him. It's like... Whenever he's close to me, I can't think straight. I can't breathe. I'm just lost in... in _him._ In his beauty, in his words, in his _being,_ and I can't see two feet in front of me. It's overwhelming in the best ways. It's exciting for no real reason other than knowing your phone lights up with his name. And yet, it's scary too, because this is all new, all unknown, and you know you're taking your chances by jumping into the fog, but when you look at him, see his smile, hear his laugh.... It's all worth it."

 

Silence follows his words. Niall makes a pretend gagging noise.

 

Louis feels quite dumbstruck.

 

Everything Liam just described fits the way he feels about Harry. _Exactly._ Does that make him feel the same way about Harry as Liam feels about Zayn? Louis hopes not. He hopes he's not as star-eyed over Harry as Liam is about his boy, but something in his stomach tells him he's not as different from Liam as he would like. It sounds like Liam is in love, but Louis-- _no, Louis isn't in love._ Love is such a strong word. Love speaks of commitment and trust and longevity, and Louis is sure he can't offer those same things to Harry in the way he gives them so freely to Louis.

 

He blinks once, twice, a third time. Louis feels disoriented.

 

"But the point is," Liam is still talking. _Whoops._ The three second attention spam strikes again. "There's a corporate event at the end of week. It's more of a party-- _a raging partly--_ and I figured we could do it like old times. Niall, you're welcome too."

 

"Oh," Louis pauses. "Are you bringing Zayn?"

 

"Well, of course. Are you bringing Harry?"

 

"I dunno," Louis sighs. "I need to start working on the actual point of this while situation. I haven't even brought up business."

 

"Still. You should bring him," Liam says sincerely. "It'll be a nice tension reliever. Plus Niall might go wild if he doesn't meet Harry."

 

" _Hey--"_

"You're right, Liam," Louis talks over Niall, a smirk on his face. "I think he might fancy Harry more than I do."

 

"Ha!" Niall cuts in, looking gleeful. " _Ha!_ Louis, you just admitted to fancying Harry!"

 

"I did not."

 

"Maaate," Liam chuckles as Niall loses himself in a fit of triumph. "You set yourself up for that one. Niall's right."

 

"For _God's_ sake," Louis exhales  throwing his hands in the air. "Fine! Think what you want about the situation. I don't care! I have to get ready anyway; Mark is meeting me for dinner--"

 

Louis gets up from the sofa as Niall's gleeful shouts echo in his ears. Only Liam bothers to follow him to his room.

 

Liam folds his arms across his chest and leans against the doorway. Louis pretends he's not there. It works for about thirty seconds, then Louis caves.

 

"I'm in deep shit," Louis exhales, collapsing against the bed. "Oh _God_ Liam. Why is this so hard? _Why?"_

"I could tell as soon as I saw you today something happened," Liam closes the door and the sounds of Niall watching tv die out a bit. "You looked happier. Your eyes still look tired, but they gleam a bit more. The name _Harry_ makes your face soften right away, even if you don't realize it. I knew, Louis. I knew it right away."

 

"I want to be CEO," Louis mumbles into his pillow, his face down. "I don't want to mess with feelings and boys with green eyes. _I want to be CEO."_

 

"Do you, though?" Liam says, softer this time. "A lot of things in your life have been decided for you. Ever since you could speak your first words, your parents had you reading their script. They've controlled you, micromanaged you, molded you until you fit their standards. You think like them a lot. You act like them just as often. But there are times when I see the _real_ Louis--the Louis who wants to laze around the flat and watch films, the Louis who cares about his friends more than his job, the Louis who doesn't think about bank accounts first. There's a bit of _you_ deep down, whether you realize it or not. It's your game to figure out what _Louis_ is saying versus what _Mark_ is saying."

 

There's a silence. Louis doesn't raise his head. The time stretches on, and eventually Liam leaves the room with a resigned sigh. The door closes behind him with a soft _click._

 

Louis stares at his bedsheets.

 

 _What does Mark want?_ That question is easy. Mark wants the company to succeed. He wants the power and control he's been accustomed to his whole life. His goals are blinding; he doesn't see the world around him or the people in it. How would he act if he met a boy with luminous green eyes that threatened to tear down everything he'd built down? Mark would get rid of him. Problem solved.

 

 _What does Mark want him to do?_ The answer comes naturally. Mark wants Louis to be his pawn while he sits behind the desk and watches his plans unfold. Louis sacrifices who he is in return for the seat of power that corrupted his father in the first place. Mark wants him to think like a CEO, make decisions like a CEO, and deal with the moral consequences. Louis isn't so sure that's what _he_ wants to do.

 

 _What does Louis want?_ It's the last question; the last key to the puzzle. Louis wants to be CEO. Louis wants to have someone to love, especially someone with chestnut curls. Those particular wishes can't coexist in the same way the sun can't hang in the sky with the moon. Does Louis want the sun? _That_ would mean Harry-- the basking warmth of his dimpled smile, his dazzling green eyes, the heat that rushes through Louis' bloodstream when they touch. Or does Louis want the moon? The dark of the night is where the shadows work, where the CEOs lurk. He has to pick, but Louis--

 

_He just doesn't fucking know._

[*]

 

Dinner with Mark Tomlinson is always an extravagant affair.

 

Usually Louis is excited when his father invites him out for a meal because it means something good is about to happen. It's a signature of Mark's and Louis has been through the same scenario again and again. When his father offered him the job at the firm, when his father promoted him, when his father gave him the oil acquisition to head by himself, it was all over dinner and fine wine.

 

That feels so long ago.

 

Now Louis is just weary as he pulls up to the five-star restaurant. He wants nothing to do with his place. He isn't hungry, he isn't excited, and he definitely isn't in the mood to see his father. Louis sits in the silence of his car and stares at his dashboard clock, watching the time pass. He knows why his father summoned him here. He has a hunch. And he doesn't like his hunch.

 

_Six o'clock exactly._

The waiter is already standing by the door when Louis finally walks in. He leads Louis to a back table with a gleaming smile. Louis notices he has green eyes. They're dull and don't shine the same way Harry's do--

 

He stops himself. Mark is waiting, his hands folded nearly against his chest.

 

Louis exhales and slides into the bench across from him.

 

There's a few moments of terse silence as Mark pours a glass of wine for both Louis and himself. There is no trace of emotion on his face. His lip is curled a bit and the vein in his temple stands out against his skin, but other than that, Louis is left in the dark about what's going through his head.

 

He shifts in his seat.

 

"Louis," Mark says abruptly, his eyes fixed on the wine in his glass. "I did not think I would need to have this meeting with you tonight."

 

Another deadly pause. Louis feels rather irritated.

 

"Details of your personal life have been withheld from me at your discretion," Mark continues quietly. "I respect that. As long as you do your job with good focus and productive results, I frankly do not care. But there are certain things I will not allow."

 

Mark pulls out a few pictures and slides them over to Louis. His steely gaze is fixed on Louis' face.

 

The picture depicts the scene from the park alongside the Seine river. Louis is laughing, his face frozen in time, as he hands Harry a bit of cheese. It looks playful enough, but there's nothing platonic about the way Harry gazes up at Louis, or how their legs are intertwined.

 

Louis feels his blood turn cold.

 

The next one is a scene Louis remembers vividly. It was the moment when Louis wanted Harry, wanted to kiss him, wanted to taste the wine on his lips. Their eyes are locked on each other as if no one in the world existed except the pair of them. Louis' hand is raised to Harry's face and it _looks_ like he's cupping his jaw to kiss him, but only Louis knows he really was just brushing off the cheese from Harry's face.

 

Still. _That was private._ Mark doesn't deserve to see this. Louis doesn't owe it to him.

 

"How did you get these?" Louis says through gritted teeth, shoving them away.

 

"Sources," Mark says coldly. "There are eyes everywhere, Louis. You fail to see that."

 

"So you were _spying_ on me?" Louis spits, his eyes blazing. "When was that ever part of the contract?"

 

The waiter approaches them at a very inconvenient time, asking for their orders. Mark gets a crab dish for the pair of them without even consulting Louis, but Louis doesn't care. He's raging and Mark looks _bored_ with the situation. He doesn't care if he's exploiting his own son. He doesn't care if he's betraying his privacy. Louis is his to use as he wishes, regardless of his own feelings.

 

Louis' heart pounds loudly in his ears.

 

"Let us get a few things straight," Mark swirls his wine in his wineglass. "There is no _contract._ You are my son. I assigned you a task, which you agreed upon. I have full rights to do what I must to ensure that task gets completed, especially because _I am still_ your employer, despite our bloodline. Are we clear?"

 

Louis doesn't answer.

 

"Good," his father smiles smoothly. "Now. I do not want to repeat myself on this matter, Louis. Your romance life is of no concern to me. I do not care what foolish relationships you get yourself into. However, I _do_ care when that foolish relationship pertains to the task I've given you, and I _do_ care if those foolish relationships are with members of the same sex."   

 

Mark pauses and leans back.

 

"I've had my suspicions about you and your preferences, of course," he continues. "And again, I do not care. You may have whatever orientation you'd like as long as it doesn't come out into the open. If you choose to publicly enter in such a relationship, you will not live under my roof, work for my firm, or contact me," Mark says coldly. "I do not presume to know what you were thinking the moment these pictures were taken, but I felt I should make my view known. Again, are we clear?"

 

Louis doesn't even give Mark the respect enough to meet his eye.

 

Mark notices. His eyebrows raise a bit, and he tucks the photos back into his pocket.

 

"That being said," he folds his hands back together, "I'd like to address the situation with Styles. As you have told me, you have made enormous strides with him already. Though your methods are--ah _\--questionable_ , you have proved helpful, and I decided to foreshadow the reward coming your way at the end of this ordeal.

 

"Louis, you are still my pride," he says steadily. "And it nothing would make me happier than to see you as the CEO. I know this is what you want. It is what everyone wants. Therefore, I would be overjoyed if you were to accept the CEO position upon my resignation."

 

Louis blinks.

 

It's not anything he didn't expect. He _knew_ this was the only card his father had up his sleeve. Two weeks ago, such a proposition would've made Louis' heart race, but now it seems tainted. _CEO._ It doesn't ring the same way anymore.

 

"You have time to think on it," Mark says quietly, standing up and brushing off his suit. "Just remember the proposition the next time you want to make a potentially fatal mistake."

 

He leaves the table without another word, his wineglass full and money on the table for the dinner they would never eat.

 

-

 

In  life, there come choices, and Louis Tomlinson has a difficult one to make.

 

He spends all night on his roof, looking down at London and considering the matter. Louis brings wine and a spare pack of Liam's cigarettes and even though he doesn't smoke, he lights one after another and feels the nicotine run through his veins as he thinks.

 

The dawn is brushing the sky when Louis finally has his answer.

 

_The company._

 

Louis feels heavy every time he thinks about it, but the company has always been there for him. It's been part of his life for nearly ten years now, and it's given him a passion, a lifestyle, and a goal. His whole existence is structured around his job. Louis doesn't know if he could function without the rush of success, the frustration of failure, the feeling of triumph after a hard day. Louis _is_ his job, and he simply can't let a boy he met two weeks ago ruin _all of that_ for Louis, even if he does have the prettiest eyes he's _ever_ seen.

 

Louis is picking the company. He isn't doing it for his father. He's doing it for himself. 

 

 _Is this what_ he _wants?_ The question nags at his alcohol-riddled brain late that night.

He really hopes so.

 

-

 

Louis starts fresh the next day.

 

He feels _much_ better. He's much more resolved. Louis has a plan. He's pursuing the company.

 

It's always been his motto that life is easier when it has structure, and Louis can't find a situation in which that statement applies to more than the one he's in right now. Louis has a decision, and he knows how he wants to handle the next few days.

 

( _He ignores the guilt nagging him in the back of his head.)_

Harry comes over later that afternoon.

 

It's the second time he's been over to Louis' flat this week alone, and he's not as nervous as he was before. His hair is tousled from the London wind and his eyes are glassy and his lips are pink and Louis--Louis turns his mind off from it all. He's got a task. He's focused. And Harry will _not_ distract him.

 

Louis plays along spectacularly well.

 

Harry doesn't notice any difference in him. He's just as relaxed around Louis as he was the last time they spent time together. He laughs easily, smiles too often, and tends to stand closer to Louis than necessary, but Louis handles the situation beautifully. He's playfully flirty around Harry and even though it isn't _real,_ Harry eats it all up and glows under the lights of Louis' flat.

 

( _He doesn't feel bad. No. He doesn't.)_

{_}

 

"Harry," Louis says lightly as they eat takeout. It's late Thursday night, and Harry came over _again_ after a long shift at work. It's almost becoming their thing. "We've talked about every other subject other than the one we probably connect best over. Isn't that funny?"

 

Harry is sitting cross-legged opposite of Louis, his Styrofoam dish in his lap. He's wearing a ridiculously low-cut shirt again and his hair falls around his face when he looks down.

 

"Mhm. What do you mean?"

 

"Well, we're both into _business,"_ Louis laughs. "Why haven't we discussed it so far? I could name your favorite childhood memory, the name of your primary school, and your best friends when you were young, but I don't even know your view on business."

 

"I didn't know you were curious," Harry smiles. "I'm willing to tell you anything you'd like."

 

_(The trust. It's clear and it's blinding and Louis knows this is his moment.)_

 

"I dunno," he says carefully, his eyes fixed on Harry. "What do you want to _do_ from here? You're nineteen and you've achieved more success than most do at age forty. What's next for you?"

 

Harry sighs and closes his eyes. He runs a hand through his hair.

 

"Mum is always asking me the same thing," he murmurs. "I honestly don't know. Business has always been an art to me, a puzzle, a cryptic code. I used to feel important when I understood it, but now it's all so...  Mechanical. It doesn't feel special anymore. I don't like the tricks and deceit, and nearly everyone I've met is out to flatter me with false words or feed me poison when I'm not looking. Except you, of course."

 

He grins at Louis. Louis smiles back.

_(It doesn't quite reach his eyes.)_

 

"And it's tiring me out, if I'm honest," Harry continues. "I didn't want this success. It may sound ungrateful, but I just wanted to learn more, immerse myself into the world of economics in business, and pursue a passion. It's often overwhelming, managing all of this myself, and I wish I had someone to deal with it alongside me."

 

There's a pause. Louis mutes the television and takes a deep breath.

 

"I want to be that person for you," Louis says quietly. "I could help you with it. The company, I mean. I know how awful it can be, and if I could relieve _any_ sort of pressure on you..."

 

"Really?" Harry's smile is shy. "You would leave all of this for me?"

 

"Well," Louis hesitates, and then exhales. "I can't leave my job. But you can come to us, you know. A merger deal. We could be partners together working on your division of the company. It would be great, Harry."

 

The smile slowly fades from Harry's face. He sighs.

 

"Mum told me that's exactly what I _shouldn't_ do," he looks at Louis' steadily, as if searching him for an answer. "Your father... He's not a particularly generous man, you know."

 

" _God,_ I'm aware," Louis says wearily and Harry laughs. "But this merger deal wouldn't be through him. It would be through me. I'm going to be the CEO of the company, you know."

 

There's a shocked silence. Harry's face breaks into a wide smile and he nearly upsets his takeout dish as he jumps up.

 

"Oh _Louis!"_ He says, clasping a hand to his mouth. "You should've just _said_ so! I've been worried about how things would play out between us, considering our conflict of business interests, but with you as CEO... _Louis!"_

He hugs Louis for a long time and Louis pretends he doesn't feel the dagger in his chest as he holds Harry close to his body. He pretends it doesn't stab him deep to the core, smelling Harry's sweet conditioner on his hair, feeling the already-familiar contours of his hips underneath his hands and hearing Harry's sweet laugh.

 

 _He was never meant to be yours,_ he reminds himself. _The company was meant to be yours._

"I'm so happy for you," Harry murmurs, pulling back from Louis. They're inches apart, and they're both breathing jaggedly. "You deserve it, and with you as CEO... Merging wouldn't be such a bad idea. It might be the best option for us."

 

 _Us._ Louis' chest hurts again.

 

"Yeah," he says softly. "Yeah. It might. But let's not talk about it too much. That's for the future and this is now."

 

There's a heavy pause. It's a charged moment, just like the day on the banks of the Seine and Louis wonders if he's ever going to get used to the suffocating feeling he experiences around Harry.

 

 _"This is now_ ," Harry repeats quietly, brushing a lock of hair off Louis' forehead gently. "You're my now, Louis. You have been ever since I met you."

 

Louis inhales sharply as Harry's eyes meet his with a gentle softness. His mind goes blank and his heart leaps and he's frantically trying to find a way to reply because Louis Tomlinson has _never_ been struck speechless but---

 

But Harry is already pulling away, looking as if he'd done nothing more than comment on the weather.

 

Louis exhales unevenly.

 

They don't talk for a long while. Harry sits on his end of the sofa and does work and Louis sits in his chair with his glasses on as he reads over work emails Niall forwarded to him. The television is silenced, so the hushed room is a bit heavy between them, but it's kind of nice. Quiet companionship and such.

 

Except Louis couldn't focus if his life depended on it.

 

He comes back to the frequent question he's asked these last few weeks-- _why does Harry have to make everything difficult?_ Louis is trying to distance himself from Harry, and give his attention solely to the company, but Harry has to drop comments that hint towards a long term future with each other, comments that highly suggest Louis means more than a friend to him, comments that make Louis dizzy. He's giving Harry up because Harry isn't a constant; he doesn't know if Harry is even _interested_ in the sort of thing Louis is. So why is Harry making things difficult?

 

Louis pinches the bridge of his nose.

 

 _Now_ he knows why Liam always told him to steer clear of relationships and romance in general. It sucks. It's confusing. It's overwhelming. And it's exhausting. He just misses his old job before all this mess happened, and would trade _anything_ to be back in his cluttered office with Eleanor barking at him for not sleeping enough. He'd even take Grimshaw's ugly attitude over this.

 

He peeks up at Harry from behind his glasses.

 

Harry is looking at him already. He smiles when they catch each other's eye, then drops his gaze back down to the computer. The smile doesn't leave his face for a long time, a fact Louis becomes aware of as his gaze lingers.

 

Apparently Harry is aware of it too, because he looks back up as if he can feel Louis staring at him. When he sees Louis' eyes already on him, he chuckles and ducks his head in the same way he always does when he's embarrassed.

 

"Something up?" he says shyly, setting down his pen.

 

"No, not at all."

 

"Oh," Harry pauses. "You look really nice in glasses, Louis. I mean you _always_ look nice. But you look especially nice now."

 

"My hair is an unwashed _mess,"_ Louis snorts, shaking his head. "I haven't shaved in _God knows_ how long. I'm wearing a jumper from my university days, and neither of us want to _think_ about the things it's been through. Are you sure _you_ don't need a pair of glasses?"

 

"You really cannot take a compliment," Harry laughs in exasperation. "It's really strange. Usually people like you are pretentious, but you're _modest._ Almost too modest."

 

"Wrong again, Harry. _Wrong again._ I'm an overconfident asshole most of the time; you'd be surprised."

 

"Well, now I _have_ to disagree there. Still, you can't take a personal compliment," Harry says firmly. "If I told you that I think you're one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen, how would you react?"

 

Louis raises an eyebrow.

 

"I can't tell if you're being serious."

 

" _Exactly._ If you weren't so modest, you'd realize I was speaking the truth," Harry grins. "You are really lovely, Louis. In a lot of ways."

 

" _Please,"_ Louis murmurs, adverting his gaze. "You're going to make me blush. And I do _not_ blush."

 

Harry blinks a few times, and then shakes his head.

 

"Oh, _that_ would surely be the end of the world," Harry laughs. "We can't have big, bad Louis _blushing."_

 

Louis buries his face in his hands and Harry laughs again.

 

They eventually fall back into their separate tasks. Louis gets so immersed in his work that he doesn't even realize how the time is going, and he finds himself forgetting Harry is even _there._ The click of the keys on his keyboard sound so natural, so home-like, that Louis doesn't even think twice about the situation.

 

By ten o'clock, Louis' eyes are getting heavy. He's sifted through all the documents Niall sent him and read the latest about the oil company acquisition, newly headed by _Nick Grimshaw._ It makes Louis' knuckles white and his heart beats angrily in his ears as he sees how successfully it's moving along, _especially_ because it's Louis who set him up for an easy ride. He'd already done most of the hard stuff and went through the grueling paperwork part; now all Nick has to do is sit pretty and watch the praise come in.

 

It makes Louis' blood boil, it truly does.

 

He ends up slamming his laptop shut after reading another forum post about the acquisition, praising Nick for his wonderful work. It probably isn't healthy for him to raise his blood pressure this much, and it _definitely_ isn't good for his mood, so he figures it's a good time to log off.

 

Harry jumps with the sound of Louis slamming the computer and Louis--Louis forgot he was there.

 

He curses under his breath and closes his eyes.

 

"Don't you have to be back to Gemma and mum before they hang me alive?" Louis mumbles tiredly. "They probably think I'm stealing you away from them, seeing how often you've spent your days at my place."

 

"Well," Harry starts embarrassedly, "I haven't told them about--- _erm--_ -us. I'm not saying they don't like _you,_ but they don't like your family, and they get overly protective. Probably not a good idea to let them in until things get more... permanent."

 

"Mhm," Louis doesn't want to address the ' _us'_ or the ' _permanent'_ so he simply doesn't. "Do you live with them?"

 

'"Yeah," Harry sighs. "I couldn't live by myself. I'd get too lonely."

 

"Must be hard living with your mum all the time," Louis says wistfully. "If I still had mine around, I'd go mad."

 

"Eh," Harry answer is half-heartedly. "I dunno. We each have different parts of the same flat, so it doesn't become _too_ much. Still, it definitely makes it harder to bring boys home when your mum and your sister are right there to sniff out any rats at the door."

 

Louis chuckles and yawns, taking off his glasses.

 

"Well, you've properly moved into my place," he nods around to Harry's work stuff scattered on his usually meticulous table. "You can stay the night, if you want. I was going to invite you to a party tomorrow night anyway, and it's a long drive home for you, especially this late."

 

"I think I'd like that," Harry smiles shyly. "I work from home a lot anyway, and you're right--I already have all my stuff here. Sorry about that."

 

"It's nothing. _Really."_

"You're fantastic, Louis," Harry beams, and then he pauses. "What were you saying about a party?"

 

"Oh yeah," Louis blinks. "Liam invited us to a corporate event at his new firm. He's bringing Zayn, and Niall might tag along, so I figured you'd want to go with me."

 

" _With_ you?" Harry raises an eyebrow, but looks pleased. "It sounds nice. What kind of party?"

 

"A party where you're not doing it right unless you're drunk for the majority of it," Louis laughs wistfully. He runs a hand through his hair. "It isn't a black tie event. Just wear jeans and a t-shirt and prepare for the hangover the next day because it is _killer."_

"Oh," Harry says uncertainly. The tone of his voice reminds Louis how inexperienced Harry is with the ways of the world. He's nineteen and he's probably never been drunk and there's something _seriously_ wrong with that.

 

"It'll be fun," Louis smiles. "You'll like it."

 

"Right. We'll see," Harry yawns and stands up. "Well, I'm off to bed for the night. I'm getting up early for a conference call, and I need to be rested for this _party_ tomorrow. See you, Louis."

 

"Night, Harry."

 

His footsteps disappear down the hallway and Louis can't help but think how natural it feels to have a house of one become a home of two.

 

[*]

 

It's been a long time since Louis has been to a proper party.

 

Being twenty-four has been a sobering experience for a kid like Louis, who spent most of his teenage years drunk. He's put partying on the backburner and focused on his job and forgot how absolutely _exhilarating_ it is to walk into a room full of people who are just as eager to get completely wrecked as he is. 

 

Harry, on the other hand, still has his reservations.

 

He's sitting in the passenger seat of Louis' car, dressed in a billowy white cotton t-shirt unbuttoned obscenely low. His cross hangs in the v of his shirt, gleaming wickedly against his smooth skin and his tattoos--two swallow birds--peek out on his collarbones. Combined with black jeans that make his legs look _endless_ and a pair of black boots, Harry easily puts half the room to shame with how effortlessly attractive he is.

 

_Except he isn't meant for Louis. It's a job. Nothing more._

"I'm nervous," Harry admits quietly as they walk towards the door. The bouncer recognizes Louis and lets him in without qualms. "I've never been to an actual party."

 

They step into the hall leading to the club. The music pulses loudly, even from out here. Louis can smell weed and alcohol and sweat and he _knows_ tonight is going to be absolutely wild.

 

Harry notices too. He shifts his pigeon-toed feet a bit and bites his lip.

 

"Just stick by me," Louis smiles. Before he can think against it, he extends his hand for Harry to take. "I'll introduce you to the boys first. It'll be okay."

 

Harry takes his hand gratefully and Louis mentally chuckles because Harry's own hand might be the clammiest thing he's ever touched. Still, it feels natural and Louis ignores the alarm going off in his head and gets _even more_ gutsy--he intertwines their fingers.

 

"You look nice, Harry. C'mon. Let loose."

 

He opens the door and the wave of music hits them with the force of a wall of water. The strobe lights are frantic and disorienting, the heat in the room makes Louis regret his long-sleeve button up, and the smell of alcohol, weed, sweat and sex hang ripe in the atmosphere. It's hard to breathe the cloying air, but Louis knows he'll get used to it eventually.

 

He squeezes Harry's hand for reassurance.

 

Within ten minutes, they've found Liam, Zayn, and Niall, already clearly drunk. Liam and Zayn are tangled together and Niall has a girl sitting to his left. No one realizes that Louis and Harry have arrived until Louis announces it.

 

" _Hello!"_ he yells loudly over the music, waving dramatically. "If you're _there,_ it'd be nice if you acknowledged us!"

 

"Louis!" Liam breaks into a grin and stands up, his eyes darting towards Harry.  A small smirk replaces the grin, and it grows even wider when he sees their intertwined fingers. "I see you've brought Harry! Wow, it's a pleasure, mate..."

 

"Hello," Harry says shyly, shaking his hand. All the eyes are now on the pair of them. "Nice to meet you as well, Liam."

 

"Harry," Louis clears his throat uncomfortably. "This is Niall and I assume _this_ man is Zayn."

 

Zayn nods with a small wave and _shit,_ Louis was stupid for not taking Liam seriously when he described Zayn for the first time. He's pure _sex--_ thick black hair, large amber eyes framed by the longest eyelashes Louis has ever seen on a man, cheekbones that are in a league with his own, and crisp honey skin that glows under the lights. His arms are covered in a sleeve of tattoos and a cigarette rests between his fingers.

 

Wow. Louis looks over at Liam and raises an eyebrow that nonverbally says _cheers mate. Well done._

Except his thoughts are interrupted by someone clearly drunk and clearly blonde.

 

"So it's the infamous Harry, once again!" Niall slurs, tripping on his feet as he tries to get up to greet Harry. "Have you given Louis a blowjob yet?"

 

"For Christ _sake!"_ Louis moans, closing his eyes. "Harry, please ignore everything he says. The only thing worse than Niall is _drunk Niall_. I'm sorry for anything he does."

 

Harry laughs along with the rest of the table, but the pink doesn't quite fade from his cheeks.

 

The conversation soon settles into full swing, and the other lads stop staring at Harry and their intertwined hands--which Harry desperately hangs onto. The situation _definitely_ gets lighter when Niall orders the first round of shots though, and Louis finds himself grinning as the small glasses are passed around.

 

" _To fit girls!"_ Niall bellows, raising the first glass. Everyone else follows suit with exasperated eye rolls, seeing as Niall is the only one of _that_ persuasion at the table, but still. He paid for the round of shots and he gets to toast to whatever he wants.

 

The alcohol is strong and bites at Louis' throat as he swallows it. Louis is _absolutely_ far from being a novice drinker, but the burn still makes his eyes water and his stomach twist. He wonders exactly what Niall ordered, and secretly hopes he doesn't order it again because Louis knows he won't be able to handle more than three of those shots.

 

He turns to his left, grinning. Harry's shot glass remains untouched.

 

Louis sighs in exasperation.

 

"Here, Harry," he says, untangling his hand. "Let me do this for you. Close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose,"

 

"But--"

 

"Ah, no buts," Louis says firmly, picking up the shotglass. "It's inauguration night with the boys. You can't back out."

 

Harry groans and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He physically winces when Louis brings his hand up to his jawline.

 

He's aware the whole table is watching them. He pretends not to notice, and picks up the glass.

 

Louis raises it to Harry's lips and Harry opens wide--then before Harry get too discomforted with the burn, Louis dives down and kisses Harry, deep and forceful and sensationally. He has no idea what makes him do it. Louis knows he's wanted to for  _so long_  and he knows he's been exercising a massive amount of control to resist the temptation,but the alcohol makes it easier to ignore his inhibitions. Those inhibitions are  _clearly_ setting off alarms and Louis knows he's pushing the boundary way too far, except he  _really_ cannot bring himself to care.

 

The whole table explodes into cheers.

 

Louis tastes the sharp burn of the alcohol on Harry's lips, he feels the way his body starts like he's been shocked by electricity, he senses the way Harry relaxes into the motion. He swallows the alcohol and kisses Louis back with a surprising amount of skill.

 

It's Louis who pulls away first.

 

They're both breathless and their eyes shine bright. Louis has shared shots before with loads of people and he didn't think it would be any different with Harry, but _wrong._ His mouth still burns and he knows it isn't from the alcohol.

 

"Wow," Harry breathes. "If that's what happens every time we do a round of shots, I think I'm in for the night."

 

"Cheeky," Louis laughs, internally hoping his heart slows down. "You'll have to work harder for the next one."

 

"You absolute _legend!"_ Niall roars from across the table. "Sly little _dog,_ you are Louis!" .

_"Ignoring him, ignoring him, ignoring him--"_

 

"Clearly someone is trying to get a blowie in the bathrooms!" Niall continues, and Liam buries his face into his sleeve to stop laughing. "I'm taking notes, mate!"

 

"And that," Louis mutters to Harry, "is why we don't let Niall speak."

 

There's a pause as another round of shots is passed out. The conversation settles back down, and Niall is too absorbed in his new girl to care what Harry and Louis are doing.

 

"Doesn't sound like too bad of an idea to me," Harry murmurs casually back. "I mean, you earn what you work for."

 

Louis freezes and his heart physically stops beating. _Harry didn't say that._ His small satisfied smile tells Louis otherwise. _Holy shit._ When did he learn to be so obscene? The Harry he knows still can't sit next to Louis without making it awkward and cries during _the Titanic._

Louis doesn't know. He doesn't want to think about it because he's feeling a familiar hard-on coming about, and that's the _last_ thing he needs here.

 

So what does he do?

 

He orders more shots to go around.

 

-

 

Harry, as it turns out, is _just_ as much of a lightweight as Louis figured he would be.

 

By time he's shared a couple more shots with Harry, Louis has learned two things. The first being that Harry needs to slow down on the alcohol (he's _giggling into Louis' neck and it's not helping the hard-on situation)_ and secondly being that Harry has the most obscene mouth he's _ever_ shared shots with.

 

Nothing Harry does is arbitrary, and Louis is quickly finding that out. From the way Harry runs his tongue along Louis' lips, collecting the spare alcohol, to the way he winds his hands into Louis' hair and keeps him in place as they share more shots, he's definitely not as inexperienced as Louis previously thought.  Harry moves against him with a lazy speed, absolutely no urgency, and yet he makes it so teasing. _Louis_ is the one who's ordering the shots and _Harry_ is the one who's controlling the situation. He knows he's got the upperhand, and he doesn't let his eyes leave Louis' face.    

The night wears on.

 

Louis quickly goes from _buzzed_ to _drunk._ Any inhibitions he may have had fly out the metaphorical window along with his common sense. To a drunk Louis, there is no company, no CEO position, no sabotage in the works with Harry. No, in this state Louis only cares about getting the next sip of alcohol and dealing with the next pressing matter: his overwhelming longing for Harry.

 

 _God,_ he wants him so bad. He wants him shirtless and shivering, his cross necklace laying on his bare chest as it rises and falls with unsteady breaths. He wants Harry on his knees, he wants Harry squirming with pleasure, he wants Harry whispering his name in desperate tones as he hits his edge. He wants Harry in all of the worst ways and his raging hard-on makes that _clearly_ visible.

 

Harry notices.

 

His eyes glimmer. He runs his hand up a Louis' thigh under the table, stopping short of the hard-on that's driving Louis mental. Louis catches his breath and keeps his eyes fixed on Harry, his gaze _begging_ Harry to do something about it while his mind's alarm goes off again. Still, Louis can't think when he's this hard and whatever his mind thinks loses against what _he_ wants.

 

"Harry," he slurs, his eyes heavily-lidded, "this isn't... _not here..."_

 "But I want to," Harry's pink lips form around the words messily. He's fucked-out and completely _gone;_ Louis knows he won't remember this. "Dance with me, Louis."

 

The rest of the table has lost interest in Louis and Harry--Niall is running his hand down a pretty brunette's chest, Zayn and Liam are sharing a joint. Louis and Harry are quite alone at the end of the table.

 

"You're drunk, Harry," Louis murmurs. "You're not thinking straight."

 

"I know what I want," Harry buries his face in Louis' neck and breathes heavily against his skin. Louis shivers and closes his eyes as an electric shock runs throng his body. "It's just a dance, Louis."

 

"Right," Louis grabs another shot and throws it back. He's not drunk enough to deal with this. "Okay, Harry. Okay."

 

Harry kisses his neck ever so briefly, and yet Louis still feels weak in his knees.

 

He distantly realizes how this probably _was not_ a good idea. Bringing Harry here, sharing shots with him, opening Pandora's box between them. But there's a point of no return where Louis simply _can't_ ignore the overwhelming _wanting_ in his veins, and he hit it about thirty seconds ago when Harry kissed his neck.

 

Louis knows he's going to regret this. He knows it'll make things complicated.

 

But with Harry, it's _always_ complicated.

 

And Louis knows what he wants in this moment.

 

_He wants Harry._

So he leads Harry to the dance floor, their fingers intertwined as Louis pulls him through the mass of sweaty, wasted people grinding under the strobe lights. The music is electrifying, the air is heavy and hot and the atmosphere screams _sex_ and _desperation._ People are so lost the feeling, so _gone,_ so beyond _caring._ Louis feels a heat burn through his veins as he turns to Harry.

 

Harry's eyes are glassy and unfocused under the strobe lights. His mouth is so _taunting,_ so obscene. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is tousled and messy. He is wasted beyond belief and Louis cannot understand how he looks so _beautiful_ like this.

 

"Louis," Harry murmurs, his back towards Louis as he slowly moves against him. "Tell me how to make it stop."

 

He leans his head against Louis' chest, leaving his neck exposed. Louis leans down and kisses on Harry's smooth skin, sucking harder than necessary. Harry squirms and a weak little groan escapes his lips, a sound so pitiful and desperate that Louis feels it go straight to his pulsing hard-on. _God._ He's wanted to do that for so long.

 

"What do you mean?" Louis breathes against his skin.

 

"The wanting," Harry whispers. "It's so constant, Louis. It never goes away. I always want you and it drives me crazy because you're a tease. You're always withholding something; I can see in in your eyes. How can I want you so badly when you're hiding a part of yourself from me?"

 

Louis doesn't answer. He doesn't want to. He can't think about such a thing right now. Being held accountable for his actions-- _Louis can't do it._ Especially with Harry, when everything is so difficult, so potent, so overwhelming. Harry knows something and it's probably a red flag, but Louis doesn't have the energy to _care_ anymore.

 

So he deals with the situation in the only way he knows how: _he kisses Harry._

 

It's in-the-moment and impulsive. Louis grips Harry's cheek and holds him in place as he kisses him furiously, a frenzied desire that burns through Louis' veins and translates itself into the most intense kiss he's ever had. Harry is equally as eager--he opens his mouth longingly against Louis' and the sharp taste of alcohol ignites Louis' senses. Harry is desperate and Harry has wanted this just as much as Louis has.

 

"Christ _,"_ Louis says breathlessly as he pulls back for a second. Harry's eyes are blazing. "Have I made it stop, Harry?"

 

"No," Harry's voice is ragged as he wraps his arms around Louis' neck. " _No._ It's insatiable."

 

"So what do you reckon I do?"

 

" _Kiss me harder."_

Louis twists his fingers into Harry's hair as he lunges forward again. The music wraps around them, the smoke makes them feel _alive,_ the heat makes their skin prickle. They're both burning with the intensity of the moment, their bodies electric and their hearts hammering. Louis wants Harry and Harry needs Louis and that's how it's always been, really.

 

_It doesn't stop._

The moments stretch on, and the fire doesn't fizzle out. Louis is working furiously against Harry, and Harry is doing all he can to feed Louis' need. Louis moves against Harry, his thigh brushing against Harry's hard-on, his hands running down Harry's back. He's feeling Harry through his

jeans and the thought is so wildly obscene that Louis feels his own dick pulse madly. 

 

Louis is panting and breathless and unsure if he's drunk off the alcohol or the taste of Harry's mouth.

 

"Louis," Harry's voice is strangely high and broken, "you've got to stop... I'm going to..."

 

"You're going to what?" Louis murmurs sweetly against Harry's neck as he grinds his hips more urgently against Harry's raging hard-on. He feels Harry jerk.

 

Louis presses his lips to Harry's sweet-smelling skin and kisses from his Adam apple to his collarbones, making sure to keep constant pressure against Harry at all times. The sensation of Louis' touch makes Harry's skin raise with goosebumps even though it isn't cold. His arms quiver, his cheek twitches, and his heart pounds so hard against his chest Louis can physically feel it when he starts from the base of Harry's neck and trails kisses all the way back to his jawline.

 

Louis pauses. He gives one more expert gyration of his hips, and he knows he's got Harry at the spot he wants.

 

"I'm going to come," Harry whispers in a strained voice. He brings his glassy, pleading eyes up towards Louis and then he lets out a soft, wretched moan. His body shakes, his back twists, and a small, anguished sound escapes lips.

 

It's the most beautiful thing Louis has ever heard.

 

"Jesus, Harry," Louis laughs weakly as Harry collapses against his chest. "What am I going to do with you?"

 

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, his body limp. "I _can't_ believe I just--"

 

"No," Louis closes his eyes. "There isn't a need to apologize. You're just... _you're something else."_

 

"Mhm," Harry is clearly gone beyond belief. His eyes are unfocused and heavily-lidded. His lips are a filthy shade of red. His cheeks are flushed and hollowed. His hair is damp and sticks to his forehead, and Louis isn't sure when he's ever seen anyone more beautiful. "'M tired, Louis."

 

"I can call you a ride home," Louis murmurs. "I'm too drunk to drive you home."

 

"No," Harry raises his head. "I want to go back with you."

 

"With me?"

 

"Yes."

 

Louis doesn't have the energy to argue.

 

The two of them intertwine their fingers and head towards the door. It's an unspoken understanding that they're going to skip out on saying goodbye to the rest of the boys; Harry is in no state and Louis just _really_ wants to get out of here. Especially because Harry has a bright gleam in his eye that looks _extremely_ promising.

 

The ride back to Louis' place is silent.

 

It's really fortunate Louis lives so close because he's in no state to be driving. His vision is blurry and his reaction time is frighteningly slow--but the streets are empty at this time of night, and Louis knows how to be careful. Back in his partying days, he perfected the art of driving under the influence.

 

Harry's eyes don't leave Louis.

 

By time he pulls into his parking spot and turns off the car, Harry is already there, kissing him, pressing him against the seat. Louis lets out a little yelp and allows Harry to straddle him, lets him run his hands down Louis' chest, lets him lean down and leave blooming purple marks on Louis' neck. Their ragged breaths are the only thing that fills the silence of the car.

 

"You're not leaving," Harry says steadily, his eyes glowing under the nearby lamppost, "until you've gotten off too. What comes around goes around."

 

" _Oh,_ " Louis lets out a surprised cry as Harry grinds his hips into Louis' dick. "Jesus _Christ."_

 

Louis knows he's not going to last long. He's been hard all night and his dick is ridiculously sensitive. Harry is rolling his hips against Louis in an expert way, his eyes closed as he listens to Louis' ragged breathing. There's a small, satisfied smile on his face.

 

Louis' back twists. He bites his lip and moans again.

 

It's so ridiculously obscene. All Louis can think about is how nice Harry would look riding him, how lovely Harry's red lips are, how pretty he looks with flushed cheeks and sweaty hair--

 

Louis lets out an explosive curse and his whole body tenses. He feels a lightening-hot pleasure building in his stomach like a stick of dynamite. The wick on the dynamite is seconds from combusting.

 

The last thing Louis sees is Harry's satisfied grin as he gives on more deep roll of his hips, then--

 

The dynamite goes off.

 

Louis' world explodes in a burst of white light. He twists with the overwhelming sensation of his whole body being swallowed by an electric energy. Louis lets out a destroyed moan and closes his eyes as waves of pleasure wash over him, one after another, each less powerful than the first.

 

It takes him a few minutes to come down from the high.

 

When he opens his eyes blearily, he sees Harry looking far too smug. His breathing is ragged and he feels like jelly, but Louis isn't tired enough to let that pass. He lets his head fall back against the headset.

 

" _Harry,"_ he mumbles, his eyes closed again. "You're shameless, you know. I reckon you'll be the death of me."

 

"Yeah, well," Harry looks tired and wasted beyond belief. _"Love kills."_

 

Louis is far too exhausted and far too drunk to answer.

 

[*]

 

For the first time in a long while, it isn't an alarm that pulls Louis out of sleep.

 

It isn't the sun streaking onto his duvet. It isn't Liam knocking at his door. It isn't Niall calling him insistently. It isn't the stress of work. It'sa body, a warm body, a halfway _naked_ body.

 

More specially, it's Harry.

 

Harry is awake and watching Louis with a sleepy smile. His hair falls across his face in pretty curls, his eyes are iced jade under the morning sun, and his cheeks are flushed. He looks unusually tired.

 

And Louis--Louis feels a little dumbstruck.

 

Harry is in _his_ bed.

 

Louis' head pounds with a dull pain. He thinks a little slower than usual, but he isn't stupid and he isn't hungover enough to forget what happened last night. The last thing he can picture is crawling into bed with Harry, too tired to care how the scene must look from the outside.

 

This _definitely_ is crossing some sort of line. 

 

"Morning, Louis," Harry smiles tiredly. "How are you feeling?"

 

"Like complete _shit,"_ he mutters. He closes his eyes. "I need the strongest cup of coffee available. You?"

 

"About the same. I called off work today."

 

"You've been up?" Louis raises an eyebrow.

 

"Yeah. It was strange waking up to another person," Harry grins shyly. "Not totally unpleasant, of course."

 

And there it is again. That breathlessness, that ache in his chest. Louis can't do it. He physically can't handle it. _  
_

" _Jesus,"_ Louis exhales and lets his head fall back on the pillow. " _Harry, I swear..."_

 

"Mhm?" Harry watches him with a little smile.

 

Louis looks helplessly at Harry in the soft light of the morning. He's lying on his side, his face layered in sleep and warm sun. The sharp contours of his shoulders stand out in the open, his tattoos vivid against his alabaster skin. His mouth is curled into a tiny smile, his dimple cratering his cheek, his eyes bright and his hair glossy. Louis finds it hard to breathe right.

 

It's Harry's beauty, the simplicity of the moment, and the overwhelming feelings Louis constantly tries to suppress. Here he is, sharing the first conversation of the day with the loveliest person Louis has _ever_ met. It feels so domestically natural that Louis' chest aches again. He wants Harry in this way just as powerfully as he wanted Harry last night--next to his side, still sleepy, the duvet sheltering them from the outside world.

 

"This... _you.._. It's all really nice," Louis sighs softly. He wants to be closer to Harry, like Harry has some sort of pull over him. Louis pauses. "You said something last night about the wanting, about how it never goes away."

 

"Did I?" Harry smiles wryly. "Not really too sharp on the details. I don't really remember a lot."

 

"Yeah," Louis murmurs, his eyes fixed on Harry. "You said the wanting, it never really stops. And _god,_ Harry. That's how you make me feel. It's like a physical pain in my chest when I'm near you, a _need_ to be with you. The second you're gone it's just... It's insatiable. When you're with me, all I can think about is how I never want you to leave. It's the wanting, Harry, and I've never felt anything so overwhelming in my life."

 

Harry is lost for words. He's fixed on Louis, his breaths slow and sharp.

 

"The thing that makes it so frustrating is how dimensional it is," Louis' voice is oddly high and breaks at the end of his sentence. "If it was sexual just wanting, I could deal with that. But it's _everything,_ Harry. I want you here with me like this, quiet mornings together. I want you like I did last night, pressed against me with the taste of your lips heavy on my own. I want you like you were a few days ago, on my sofa with your hair falling down over your eyes as you concentrated on working. I want you when you laugh, when your dimple shows and your eyes flash and your smile is so wide I feel my own cheeks hurting. I want you when you're sleeping, when you're unassuming and so _young,_ so beautiful, so ethereal. I want you _all the time,_ Harry, and I can't make it go away." 

 

Louis lets out a shaky breath. He isn't sure why he's exposing himself to Harry like this, but it feels right and it's so _true,_ especially lately. Ignoring how Harry affects him sure isn't helping the situation and definitely doesn't fix the problem of the weighty task looming over Louis' head. He can't keep bouncing between Harry and his job because he feels he's quite literally going to go mad with it all.

 

"Louis," Harry laughs softly. "You really do play mental games with me. I don't think you understand how badly I've wanted to hear you say those words, but Louis-- _you're withholding something._ I can tell by the way you drop your gaze and your eyebrows furrow. You're so in reach, so _close,_ but I can't ever have you if you're still fighting something in your own mind."

 

Louis' breath catches. His eyes widen.

 

"Harry..."

 

"No, wait," he continues  waving Louis away. "I'm not finished. It's like there's a rubber band around your waist, and I'm standing five feet away. You get _so close_ to me, and then the rubber band's pull is too much and it snaps you back. Right when I think I finally have you with me, you're gone again, lost in whatever thought ties you down."

 

Louis blinks once, twice, a third time. His hesitation lasts a moment too long.

 

Harry knows something. He knows something and he needs an answer and it kills Louis knowing he's going to have to lie to the one person who doesn't deserve it.

 

"You're right, Harry," Louis' voice is careful. "I am conflicted. I've already said how my family is about my sexuality, and every time I get closer to you, it's like a choice. Am I picking you or am I picking my family? I can't have them both. And _that's--_ that's what weighs me down. I can't afford to get this wrong because one wrong move, and I've lost you _and_ them. That would destroy me."

 

There's a pause. Harry searches Louis' face sadly, and then he sighs.

 

"That's terribly unfair," he says quietly. "I'm so sorry you have to make that choice. It shouldn't be that way. Love shouldn't be that way."

 

 _Love._ The word makes Louis' skin prickle.

 

"Yeah," Louis breathes, "but let's not think that way anymore. I just want to have a few more minutes to enjoy this with you and then I _really_ need coffee."

 

Harry laughs and edges closer to Louis. He puts his head on Louis' bare chest and Louis wraps his arm around Harry's shoulder. Their legs intertwine underneath the duvet, just like they always do when Harry curls up with him.

 

It feels so hauntingly natural.

 

The whole situation feels like they've been doing this for years. Waking up to each other, waking up to the sun, waking up to soft words and gentle smiles. Louis swears he'd never take another morning for granted if he got to spend it with Harry by his side. It makes him feel so _content,_ so _at home_ and he briefly lets his mind wander to the small chance of spending every day like this, with Harry, with this quiet happiness and serene tranquility.

 

The thought makes his heart jump.

 

But there's still the one problem nagging at him. The company. Louis can't keep giving Harry parts of the truth without the full answer. Eventually, the two roads will meet and Louis knows it's going to be disastrous, but.

 

Louis knows what he wants in this moment.

 

_To stay like this forever with Harry._

{_}

 

"You're absolutely absurd, Louis," Harry rolls his eyes as he leans against the countertops. "You don't add _any_ sugar? _Any_ cream?"

 

"I depend on black coffee," Louis shrugs unapologetically. "When you sleep as little as I do, it becomes a main staple in your life. I don't even notice how awful it tastes anymore."

 

"I can't _believe_ you," Harry laughs. "It's a wonder why you don't have hair sprouting out of your chest with coffee that strong."

 

Harry's eyes linger on Louis' chest. He put on a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms, but didn't bother with a top. It's not uncomfortable or anything--Louis is extreme at ease around Harry, shirtless or not.

 

'"It's a wonder _you_ don't have cavities _,_ " Louis crinkled his nose as he makes Harry a cup of coffee too. " _Three_ creams? Two lumps of sugar? Are you drinking sweet water or are you drinking coffee?"

 

"At least it isn't bitter!"

 

"But it isn't coffee either," Louis says firmly as he hands Harry his mug. "You're lucky I even _have_ cream and sugar. It's only been one morning and you've used more than I have in six months."

 

Harry takes his usual spot on the sofa and Louis takes his chair. He puts on his glasses, which lay near his work stuff, and takes a grateful sip of his coffee. _God._ He couldn't make it through his day-to-day life if he didn't have at least one cup. He actually could not function.

 

"I digress," Harry's eyes meet his from over the rim of his mug. "You make a good cup of coffee, bitter or not."

 

"Exactly."

 

"Don't let it go too much to your head."

 

"Would I ever?"

 

Harry chuckles again and sets down his mug. He stretches his back with a wide yawn.

 

"I reckon we both need showers," Harry comments offhandedly. "After last night and such."

 

'"Suppose you're right," Louis sighs. "Let me finish this cup though. I can't even think about hygiene yet."

 

The next twenty minutes are spent in quiet as they both finish their coffees. Only the diluted  sounds of London outside Louis' window fill the void, and even those are too distant to be sustainable. Still, unlike other people, the silence doesn't bother Louis and it doesn't feel awkward. Harry makes a comfortable companion without speaking, and Louis reckons that says leaps and bounds about where they are with each other.

 

He finishes his cup with a grateful sigh and stands up, stretching his arms.

 

"All right," Louis heaves another sigh. "Onto the next pressing matter: hygiene. Do you have a spare set of clothes?"

 

"Yeah," Harry grins. "From last week when I stayed over."

 

_Harry already has clothes at Louis' place._

He's slowly bleeding into all aspects of Louis' life. From the extra pair of shoes at the door to the work stuff on his table to the way his passenger seat in his car is set for Harry's leg length, little things around him are changing to accommodate for the new person in his life.

 

It makes Louis' chest expand in satisfaction.

 

"Well, that's fortunate," he smiles back. "Still, there's one minor setback."

 

"And what would that be?"

 

"I only have one shower. The guest room only has a jacuzzi tub," Louis says. "I figure we could take turns if that's all right."

 

"Take turns?" Harry raises an eyebrow. "Why do that when you could save water and take only one shower?"

 

" _Harry!"_ Louis laughs despite himself. "You are absolutely _shameless,_ you are."

 

"Yeah," Harry says, his eyes flashing, "yeah, I am. But I'm also environmentally consciousness."

 

"Oh, _God,"_ Louis blinks and shakes his head in disbelief. "Well, I could do with a lower water bill. Liam takes the absolute _longest_ showers, and I know he had at least two while we were gone in Paris and he came to check up on the place, so..."

 

" _So come on,_ " Harry tugs him into the master bathroom happily. Louis nearly stumbles on his feet. "We aren't getting any cleaner standing here."

 

He pushes Louis against the bathroom door, closing it behind them. His body presses into Louis, his eyes bright, and then he's kissing Louis again, kissing him with a little bit of urgently and _definitely_ some insistence. Louis is surprised at first, but he quickly melts into the moment and winds his hands into Harry's hair.

 

Something shifts.

 

The kiss goes from lazy to furious in a matter of seconds. Harry is running his hands down Louis' bare back, searching for the waistband of Louis' flannel bottoms and Louis is kissing him with all he can muster, translating everything he's ever felt for Harry in the way he moves his lips against Harry's, the way their tongues intertwine, the way Harry makes soft sounds into his mouth.

 

They break apart briefly as Harry fumbles with the string on Louis' pajamas. Louis takes the opportunity to lean forward and leave a lovebite on Harry's neck, a nice red mark that shines angrily against the white of Harry's skin. Harry writhes under the initial pain of it, and then he's sighing in pleasure as Louis steps back to look at his handiwork.

 

It'll be a blooming purple bruise in a few hours. Louis really shouldn't feel so satisfied.

 

He doesn't get much time to think about it though because Harry is undressing him with shaking hands. Louis helps Harry with his flannels and then he's out of his boxers and completely unclothed. Harry's breath hitches at the sight of Louis' half-hard dick.

 

"Louis," he says breathlessly, stepping closer. "I want to..."

 

Louis doesn't let him finish because he already knows what Harry's going to say. Instead he kisses him again, furious and wild and completely unrestrained and Harry's words are swallowed, disappearing into the kiss.

 

It takes a few more minutes before Harry is undressed.

 

And Louis--Louis has never truly seen him bare. His body is as ridiculously wonderful as Louis could've ever imagined and his dick--- _god._ Louis has always been on the bigger side, but Harry is thick and long and impossibly smooth. Louis can see the vein standing out against the skin, and all he can think about is his lovely it would feel to run his tongue down it.

 

He takes a ragged breath and turns on the shower.

 

The shower has more than enough space for the pair of them to fit in comfortably. Between the two shower heads, there's enough water for the both of them too. Louis turns the heat up and lets out an audible moan as it washes against his skin.

 

Harry is pressed against him within seconds.

 

"I want to give you a blowjob," he says hoarsely. "No-- _I'm going to give you a blowjob."_

 

Louis doesn't know what to say.

 

He just closes his eyes as Harry kisses his jawline, his neck, his collarbones, the tips of his chest tattoos. He feels Harry's hands running down his body gently, the water racing his fingers. By time Harry reaches his hipbones, Louis already feels dizzy.

 

Harry is on his knees.

 

Now Louis opens his eyes, the water running down his face. Harry's hair is plastered to his head, beads of water on his eyelashes too. He looks so small from this angle. Louis places his hands at the nape of Harry's neck and presses against the skin gently, reassuringly--

 

 

Harry takes the tip of Louis' dick into his mouth.

 

The sensation is so immediate Louis feels himself quiver. It's like a thousand volts of electricity pulsing through his veins, electrifying his body. Louis has gotten plenty of blowjobs before, but none of them have made him feel so explosive so soon. All of his senses are on fire.

 

Harry lets out a small, pleasured sigh and engulfs him again.

 

This time he takes Louis halfway, and Louis' heart physically stops with the overwhelming feeling of Harry's warm, wet mouth around him. Harry's lips are red and wrapped around _his_ dick and Louis finds it hard to guide air into his lungs when the realization hits him so hard. Since Harry first licked his obscene lips in France, Louis has pictured what he would look like with that mouth on _his_ dick, how it would feel, how Harry would look--

 

If Louis ever thought Harry was inexperienced, he was sadly mistaken.

 

Harry takes him down-- _all of him down--_ in one fluid motion. He's able to hold Louis for the longest seconds of Louis' entire life, and then he's remerging for air, panting heavily with shaking hands. It's all Louis can do _not_ to let his knees buckle then and there.

 

Because Harry-- _Harry can deepthroat._

He swallows him again, this time bringing his glassy eyes up towards Louis and _holy shit--_ his cheeks are hollowed, his eyes are doe-like, his lips more red than usual. Harry looks absolutely explicit like this, with Louis' dick hitting the back of his throat and Louis--Louis has to grip the walls for support.

 

Harry starts moving.

 

It's slow at first, _painfully slow,_ but he quickly gains speed. Harry is bobbing up and down at a dizzying pace within thirty seconds and it's all too much--watching Harry, feeling Harry, listening to his small gags---

 

'" _Jesus,"_ Louis gasps, his voice strained. He digs his fingers into Harry's scalp. "Harry, _please..."_

The words have an immediate effect. Harry lifts his eyes again and keeps working around Louis, fast and skilled and _way_ more sensational than before. He knows what he's doing, he knows what Louis needs, and he knows how to give it to him. It's unnatural the way he reads Louis' body.

 

"My mouth," Harry says breathlessly as he pulls off. "Go on--fuck my mouth."

 

The phrase sends Louis' world spinning. He lets out an explosive moan and bucks his hips once, twice, a third time. With each stroke, he hits the back of Harry's throat and Harry lets out tiny gags, but he doesn't tell Louis to stop. His eyes could be watering--but Louis would never know between the shower water.

 

Louis feels as if time is in slow motion.

 

Everything around him fades out until it's just Harry, his mouth, the small sounds escaping his lips, the way he's looking at Louis. His mind has short-circuited, completely overwhelmed by the sight, the feeling, and a Louis is only distantly aware of the fire building in his gut. His fingers and toes start to tingle and intense rushes of pleasure flood his body, making him shudder. They're small and they're powerful and Louis knows when he hits his edge, it's going to completely engulf him.

 

He lets out a guttural cry.

 

Louis is holding Harry by his wet hair, keeping him in place as he thrusts into Harry's mouth. With each moment, his thrusts go deeper than he probably should, and Harry is gagging desperately now, but it's so _hot,_ so _obscene_ Louis can't hold himself back--

 

" _Harry,"_ he cries again, feeling his body go numb. " _Oh God--"_

He tries to pull back because he knows he's going to come any second, but Harry doesn't let him. It's the firmness in his eyes that finally pushes Louis over the edge, because he knows he's going to ride out his orgasm in Harry's mouth, because he knows Harry doesn't intend on finishing until he's swallowed everything Louis gives him--

 

Louis absolutely falls apart.

 

With the force of a tsunami, everything he's been feeling collides into one massive tidal wave, a wave that engulfs him with its rushing power. Louis lets out a dry sob as his senses are short-circuited and that white-hot electricity ignites him from head to toe.

 

He comes so hard he sees stars.

 

Louis is gasping for air, clutching the slippery walls for dear life. Harry takes everything, _every last drop_ , and swallows it down without protest, his eyes watery and red. When he finally lets Louis' dick go, he's grinning with a lopsided smile on his ridiculously puffy, red lips.

 

Louis can hardly stand straight. His body feels boneless, and his head hammers into his chest with such ferocity it physically hurts. His head is pulsing and he feels dazed, as if he just got clubbed. It's all too much.

 

Louis slumps against the wall of the shower as Harry kisses him, soft and slow.

 

He can taste himself on Harry's lips. There's something so beautifully filthy about that.

 

"Louis," Harry laughs hoarsely, his voice oddly strained. "Are you okay?"

 

"I want to say yes," Louis mumbles, letting the water rush down his face, "but actually I'm not. I've never came that hard. _Jesus Christ, Harry._ You're surprising me at every turn."

 

"I dunno if that's a compliment or not," Harry's voice is again odd, and Louis realizes _he_ was the one who did it by bucking his hips so feverishly and hitting Harry's throat. "But I'll take it as such. You tasted nice, by the way."

 

Harry smiles like he's done nothing but compliment Louis' hair. He reaches for the soap and washcloth and then lets the water run down his face, sighing.

 

After Harry is clean, he reaches for Louis' shampoo and conditioner, but Louis stops him.

 

"Here," he says, "let me."

 

Harry smiles and gives him the bottles.

 

Seeing as Harry is a bit taller than him, it's an extremely awkward angle, but Louis makes it work. He squirts the shampoo into his hands, massages it through Harry's thick hair, and Harry--Harry moans in pleasure, twisting under Louis' touch.

 

'"Mhm," he sighs. "Feels good, Louis. Really good."

 

Louis helps him rinse, and then repeats the same process with the conditioner. It's worth the aching shoulders and cramped fingers to hear Harry letting out small sounds of pleasure, and Louis prolongs it for as long as his arms can take it.

 

By time Harry is finished, Louis feels half-dead. He doesn't linger on himself as he quickly washes his body and his hair, partly because the water is running cold and partly because he has no energy left.

 

He turns off the shower five minutes later.

 

The bathroom is ridiculously steamy when they emerge. It's so thick in the air that it's hard to breathe. Louis is reminded of an overly humidified sauna as he grabs two thick, fluffy towels for the pair of them. Seeing as they weren't thinking along the rational lines when they first got into the bathroom, neither of them brought extra clothes.

 

Louis flicks off the light and Harry follows him into the adjoining bedroom where Louis promptly proceeds to collapse against his bed. Harry sits on the edge, next to him.

 

"Harry," Louis says after a few moments of silence. "Where in the _world_ did learn how to do that?"

 

Harry chuckles.

 

'"I'm nineteen, not a monk. You pick up things as you go."  

 

"Like how to give great blowjobs?" Louis raises an eyebrow. "Where exactly have you been going again?"

 

"A man doesn't tell his secrets," Harry winks at him. "That would ruin all of the fun."

 

'"I thought you were a _virgin!"_

"Well, I am," Harry says, shrugging. "Never really cared enough about someone to give that part of myself away."

 

There's a pause.

 

"Oh," Louis says softly. "Well... If it bothers you, I'm not."

 

"It doesn't."

 

"Okay," Louis smiles tiredly. "Thanks, Harry. I intend on repaying you soon."

 

"Oh?" Harry gets up and lets the towel drop to his feet as he searches through his bag for clothes.

 

"Well _obviously,"_ Louis exhales. "My mum taught me good manners, like returning favors."

 

"Sexual favors?"

 

" _Harry."_

Harry laughs as he pulls on a jumper and a pair of jeans. His hair is damp--it falls almost to his shoulders in limp curls. Louis can smell his shampoo from here and that makes his chest pang-- _Harry smells like him now._ Another small thing that means a lot more to Louis than it should.

 

The next twenty minutes are spent in silence as they both dress. Harry packs up his stuff, humming under his breath as he tidies up a bit. Louis makes the bed in the meantime. It's a simple domestic task, but doing it with Harry makes it feel so... _permanent._ The sensation makes Louis swell with contentment.

 

Harry is turning Louis into a right _sap._

 

-     

 

Louis takes Harry out for lunch. 

 

It really isn't anything fancy and it certainly wasn't pre-planned, so Louis is a tad surprised when they show up to the small cafe and are greeted by two or three paps.

 

They're quite nice, of course, and they aren't intrusive with Harry and Louis' privacy. They snap a few pictures of Harry holding the door open for Louis and Louis smiling at him and he feels something stir in the pit of his stomach that's not exactly pleasant. _If you choose to take a relationship public, you will reap the consequences._ Mark's words keep ringing in his head.

 

He isn't in a relationship for Christ's sake. Why doesn't anyone _understand_ that?

 

Louis has been told (mostly through texts from Liam and Niall) that Harry and him have quite a social media following. Ranging from teenagers to adults, there seem to be a lot of people interested in the pair of them, and a bulk of the stuff they're saying is along the romance lines. There are lots of pictures Louis didn't even _know_ existed, lots of opinion blogs and relationship rumors exploding from sites like twitter to sugarscape. It's all overwhelming.

 

He wonders if Harry knows. _Probably_. Harry has the good sense to not bring it up.

 

The pair of them take a table by the window.

 

"This is nice," Harry comments offhandedly. He's wearing a loose jumper, his hair still damp. "I'm about starved anyway."

 

"Me too," Louis already knows what he's going to order, so when the waiter comes by he politely declines the menu. "By the way, don't try to pay. I'm covering lunch."

 

"You're not."

 

"Ah, but I am," Louis says firmly. "Arguing with me is futile, Harry. You really shouldn't waste your energy."

 

"You _are_ stubborn," Harry laughs. "You and Gemma would be quite the match for each other. You'd either get along famously or fight to the death." 

 

Louis pauses.

 

"Well, considering how she feels about me, I'd lean towards the latter," Louis says with a shrug. "She'd destroy me, no doubt. I still remember the way her eyes burned when we met at the gala. I felt the heat just from a _look."_

"Yeah, that's Gems," Harry has a fond look on his face. "Unbelievably strong-willed and head-strong."

 

The waiter comes by and takes their orders. Harry gets a light salad and soup while Louis orders a dinner-sized plate of pasta. He raises his eyebrows as the smiling waiter saunters off with their orders.

 

"What happened to being starving?" Louis asks, sipping his water.

 

"I _am_ hungry," Harry says hesitantly. He pauses. "It's just... I'm going out tonight."

 

 _"Oh?_ With who?"

 

"An old friend," Harry ducks his head and his cheeks pink. "His name is Nick Grimshaw."

 

Louis' jaw drops.

 

" _Grimshaw?"_ Louis says, dumbstruck. " _How? Why?"_

"I thought would you know him," Harry sighs. "I know he works for your father's firm. And I gather you two aren't fond of each other."

 

"Absolutely not," Louis says bitterly, way more bitterly than he intended. He bends the straw in his water moodily. "Nick is a piece of shit. Sorry if I offended you, but not really. I hate him."

 

Louis feels something pang in his chest, kind of like irritation and longing mixed together. He doesn't like it. _He doesn't like Nick_. Who is he to steal the acquisition away from Louis, and now Harry?

 

Honestly _fuck him._

_"_ It'sjust a dinner," Harry chuckles softly. "If that's what you're so upset about, you don't have to worry. Nick and I don't have a thing anymore."

 

 _Anymore?_ Louis' blood boils. _Let him catch Nick in the office again._ He thinks about how Nick has probably gotten Harry in the same ways Louis has and he doesn't understand _why_ he's so angry about it, but he is. He tells himself he shouldn't get so worked up about the situation. But he hates Nick. He hates how Nick goes for everything Louis cares about.

 

So it's _kind of_ personal.

 

"I'm not upset," Louis says through gritted teeth and it's so clearly a lie that Harry covers his mouth to stop from laughing. "He just sucks, okay?"

 

"I can't believe it," Harry's eyes gleam brightly. "You're _jealous._ You're actually jealous!"

 

"I am _not."_

Again, Louis does a miserable job of hiding the resentment in his voice, and Harry looks way too pleased about the whole situation as they eat their separate lunches. Louis stabs at his pasta with more fury than a plate of cheesy noodles deserve and again, Harry doesn't miss his anger but _screw it._ Yeah, Louis doesn't want Harry going anywhere around Nick. He considers Harry to be his, which is ridiculous considering they've made no formal agreement on exactly _what_ they are. Mostly friends, Louis thinks. Friends with some sexual tension. Friends who get each other off and blow the other in the shower. But still, mostly friends. And if that's the case, Harry is under no commitment that says he must save himself for Louis and _just Louis_.

 

Which frustrates Louis. And irritates him.

 

He blames Nick.

 

An hour later, they haven't yet exchanged another word. Louis is probably to blame for that; he looks so sullen that Harry doesn't dare say anything more. So they eat in silence-- _not the compatible type--_ \- as Louis sulks and Harry tries to find a way to start another conversation.

 

 Harry clears his throat uncertainly and pulls out his phone. He gives Louis an apologetic look before typing out a message, and the he heaves a sigh.

 

"Nick is picking me up within a few minutes," Harry says hesitantly. "Thank you for the lunch, Louis. And for last night. It was really nice."

 

"Mhm," Louis says moodily.

 

" _Louis,"_ Harry sighs. He looks around and drops his voice, leaning towards him. "Don't be upset. I promise you that it's nothing. Do you honestly think I would go hook up with another man when I've already committed myself to you? I don't give blowjobs out for free, you know."

 

Louis considers this. _Okay._ Fair point. Harry _did_ give him a blowjob. The thought still makes Louis feel giddy. And Harry isn't the type to go around handing out sexual acts to whoever asks, so Louis supposes he's just going to have to swallow his envy and accept that fact.

 

"I still hate him," Louis says after a moment. "You can't make me unhate him."

 

"If you insist," Harry tries to sound exasperated, but he's smiling as he stands up. He tucks his wallet into his back pocket. "Do you want to walk out with me?"

 

"Of course," Louis slips on his jacket and leaves a generous tip on the table. The waiter was cute. "I'm not _mannerless,_ you know."

 

Harry just laughs and holds the door for him as they walk to the curb.

 

The London air is a bit chilly and it makes Louis shiver. Neither his hair nor Harry's is completely dry yet. His windbreaker does little to help either.

 

But if Louis needs something to heat him up, the sight of Nick pulling up _definitely_ does the trick.

 

He's in his all-black Range Rover, the stereo pumping so loud they can hear it from outside. Nick rolls down the window, smirking broadly as he takes in the sight of Louis and Harry.

 

"Well well," Nick's voice is taunting. "Didn't know I was interrupting something. So you and Harry are acquainted, yeah? That's cute. But Tomlinson, did you know Harry and I have been mates for some time now? More than mates at times, but _hey._ I don't kiss and tell."

 

"Nick," Harry says sharply. "Please."

 

"Sorry kiddo," Nick laughs, and Louis swears he's never hated anyone more. "You coming?"

 

Harry nods, and then turns to Louis. He closes his eyes when he sees the look of pure loathing on Louis' face.

 

"He's trying to be clever," Harry mutters. "Don't worry about it. I'll call you tomorrow, yeah?"

 

"Yeah." Louis tries to keep his voice even. Harry gives him a half-hearted smile and then hugs Louis, wrapping his arms around Louis' waist. Again, the scent of Louis' conditioner still marks Harry as his. _Ha,_ he thinks vindictively. _Nick doesn't have that on his side._

But Louis is not done yet.

 

Harry pulls back and Louis catches sight of Nick over his shoulder and something in Nick's sneering gaze pushes him over the edge and Louis acts on a wild impulse. All logic and reason and precaution flies from his mind as he puts his hands on Harry's face and pulls him in again--

 

He kisses Harry. Right in front of Nick. Right in front of the whole street.

 

Harry doesn't protest--he moves into it quite smoothly--but when Louis lets him go, he looks surprised. Not _bad_ surprised. Maybe a little weary. But still, it's worth it when Louis catches sight of Nick's face, his glassed-over eyes and _marginally_ less smug expression. _Ha._

 

"Right," Harry says unsteadily, "bye Louis."

 

Louis doesn't reply. He still can't believe his own daring.

 

And then he's watching Harry get into Nick's car, and Nick puts a hand on Harry's thigh. It's not forceful and it's not showy, but it's enough to drown Louis' shock underneath burning rage again. He's clenching his fists as Nick rolls up the window.

 

"Cheers, Tomlinson," Nick calls as he speeds away. Louis can hear his laughter echoing in the empty street far after he's gone.

 

 _God._ He hates Nick Grimshaw. Absolutely _fucking hates him._

[*]

 

Maybe it's a good thing Louis gets called to work the next day.

 

Of course, he's a bit surprised and a bit annoyed to wake up _so early._ He isn't happy when Niall tells him he's required to come in either. It's still six in the morning and Louis can't be too pleased about _anything_ just yet.

 

But after he's gotten a shower, dressed himself, and has a coffee in hand, he's feeling marginally better. In fact, as Louis makes the commute to work, he thinks it's probably good for him to get out of the house today. Harry hasn't called him yet, and Louis _maybe_ has been sulking about the situation longer than usual. So yeah. It's probably good to distract himself.

 

The office feels like a foreign place when he walks in.

 

It's been nearly a month since Louis came to work. It doesn't _feel_ that long, but as he walks through the carpeted corridors, he realizes just how much things have changed. He used to love this place with everything inside of him. Louis still does, of course-- _but there are other things to life._ Other things to love, other people. Especially people with green eyes, curly hair, and a ridiculously lopsided smile.

 

Louis is in a good mood as he flips on the light to his office.

 

Eleanor says hello to him on the way in, friendly as ever. A cup of steaming black coffee sits on Louis' desk alongside a massive file of paperwork. _Lovely._ Clearly no time has been wasted in loading on Louis' workload the moment he arrives. It's a good thing Louis doesn't turn his nose up to hard tasks, because it looks likes he's been assigned financial portfolios for several prominent clients. It includes monitoring recent investments and separate financial market research. Louis is going to have to discuss this with his investment analyst _after_ he slugs through the massive stack of papers. And gets another cup of coffee.

 

Louis sighs, adjust his glasses, and begins with the first file folder.

 

 _JP Intel Computer Software_. Louis scans the brief overview of the client. _Hm._ A lot of the stock transaction history mentioned on the sheet links directly to _HC Stock Exchange_. It strikes Louis as strange because he doesn't peg his father as one to accept clients who work through Harry's company as well theirs, seeing as JP Intel recently hired their services. But it's not Louis' place to comment, he supposes, and he has too much to do to ponder questions anyway.

 

As Louis dives into the task and loses himself in the mountain of paperwork, he realizes just how much he missed being busy. He feels so much more in-control of his life when he's doing something productive, especially something he's good at. It sends a stab through his chest as he thinks about it. _This_ is what he's giving up every time he's with Harry--

 

 _No._ Louis isn't getting distracted, not now. Especially since Harry hasn't contacted him since yesterday.

 

(Louis swears he's not being creepy or obsessive, but since he met Harry, Harry _always_ texted him in the morning, wishing him a good day. It's the first time he hasn't woken up to a glowing message on his phone and Louis really shouldn't have been as bothered by it as he is.)

 

The hours drag on.

 

Louis easily finishes five cups of strong coffee. He blasts through the financial accounts without so much as _blinking_ an eye, and by time it's noon, he has a satisfactory report drafted. Although Louis is a pro at balancing the risk of the investing with each company's specific financial situations, he still needs to get his work approved by the investment analyst before sending it off to be reviewed. Louis doesn't pretend to be an expert when it comes to market developments, especially international ones, and always double-checks his draft to ensure accuracy. He's hardly every _wrong,_ but still.

 

Louis is satisfied as he prints his draft. He checks his watch. His stomach growls.

 

It's definitely lunch time.

 

He decides to consult Stanley after he's eaten something, and Louis goes off in search of Niall. They always eat their lunches together up in the executive suite. Not only is the food better, but the lounge is sleek and comfortable _and_ they don't have to deal with the petty office gossip exchanged over lunch break. Louis _technically_ isn't supposed to have a spot in the executive suite just yet, but it's a perk of being the CEO's son, _so._

Niall looks annoyed and tired when Louis finds him filing paperwork.

 

"What's up with you?" Louis raises his eyebrows as he leans against the doorframe. Niall slams the file cabinet closed and exhales deeply.

 

It takes a few minutes for him to answer.

 

"I missed my rent payment," Niall mutters. "I'm facing eviction. Mum went absolutely berserk. If I lose my place, I'll never be able to find another I can afford close enough to the firm. So _yeah."_

" _Niall,"_ Louis says in astonishment. "Why in the world are you behind on your rent payments?"

 

"I dunno," Niall picks up his stuff and stands up, straightening his tie. "Not enough money. It's expensive to live in London, Louis. For us common people, at least."

 

"You could've _told_ me," Louis walks out of the office with Niall. The executive suite is on the penthouse level, and they have to take the lift to get there. "If you need higher wages, you know I could arrange that for you."

 

Niall sighs.

 

"I don't want it to be like that," he murmurs, his ears burning red. "I don't want to be the poor friend who relies on other people for money."

 

" _Niall,"_ Louis exhales, shaking his head. He presses the EXEC button on the lift and they jolt upwards. "It isn't about money, you know. I genuinely care about you and it would be pretty shitty of me if I just stood by while you lost your flat. Especially when I can do something about it."

 

They don't say anything as they emerge in the executive suit. Louis uses his VIP lanyard to unlock the suite door, and they step inside.

 

For the exclusive amount of executives at Tomlinson Trading, the executive suite is _way_ more extravagant than it needs to be and _always_ deserted. It seems pretty counterintuitive to spend so much money on the lounge when most of the executives are out on business lunches in foreign countries, sipping wine beneath the world's nicest cities. Louis knows for certain there are some who don't even _know_ this place exists. Which is ironic, considering the other employees have a cafeteria on the ground floor with microwaves that hardly work and plastic chairs purchased at least twenty years ago.

 

Louis goes through the fresh sushi bar and takes his plush armchair by the faux fireplace. Niall joins him at his table, his plate loaded with _everything_ , and Louis can't help but laugh to himself. When all goes wrong, Niall still has room to eat.

 

"So Niall," Louis' mouth is full of tekkamaki, "how much do you need for the rent payment?"

 

"I'm not letting you pay my rent for me," Niall mutters, shaking his head. "Just forget it, okay? I'll get it solved."

 

"I'm _not_ going to pay your rent," Louis rolls his eyes. "Just tell me how short you are."

 

Niall looks at him suspiciously, clearly wondering what Louis' motive are. But he's a pretty trusting guy, and he tells Louis anyways.

 

"£500. Maybe more. I haven't looked at all the bills."

 

" _Jesus,"_ Louis breathes. " _Niall._ If I get this problem solved for you, I'm going to need you to swear you'll keep better track of your finances."

 

" _I said I don't want your money!"_

 "For fuck's _sake,_ I'm not giving you money," Louis waves his words away dismissively. "Consider it an early bonus. You were going to get one at the holidays anyway."

 

"Louis," Niall's eyes grow wide. "You _can't--"_

"I can do anything, Niall."

 

"But that's the same thing as giving me money," Niall wrinkles his nose. "I still feel bad after Paris, you know. I can't even imagine how much was spent on me alone."

 

"Nonsense," Louis sips his waterglass in satisfaction. "The check says _Tomlinson Trading_ on the bottom. So it's not the same as giving you money."

 

"You're _ridiculous,_ Louis," Niall closes his eyes, but the smile is staring to creep across his face. It's the first time Louis has seen him grin all day. "Absolutely ridiculous."

 

But he doesn't object any further, so Louis takes it as a _yes._

(He makes a mental note to tell Eleanor about the plan later. Louis has no power whatsoever to give bonuses early, but he does have his own bank account, and he _can_ make checks through Tomlinson Trading. So if the check Niall gets later isn't _exactly_ a bonus, Niall would never know.)

 

Still. All for the better.

 

-

 

"Is Stan Lucas in?"

 

Eleanor raises her head from the planner she'd been filling out, looking slightly irritated to be interrupted. Once she sees it's Louis in front of her, a smile breaks across her face though.

 

"Louis! Good to see you again," she says cheerily. "And I'm afraid not. Stanley has been off sick for a while now."

 

" _Sick?"_ Louis raises an eyebrow. "Who's stepping in for him as head investment analyst?"

 

"Well, Nick Grimshaw obviously," Eleanor laughs. "You really have been gone too long, Louis."

 

She goes back to her work, still chuckling.

 

_Of fucking course._

Louis doesn't understand why fate likes to throw Nick Grimshaw in his life at every available turn, but he's getting _severely_ irritated by it. Especially in the light of recent events, visiting his office is the absolute _last_ thing Louis wants to do. If this wasn't his job, if he didn't take his work so seriously, if the company didn't mean so much to him, Louis would say _screw it_ and skip Nick's input on the report. 

 

Louis is fuming as he stops by his office to pick up his draft.

 

Nick's office is only a few feet down the hall from Louis' own. Louis is cursing him under his breath with every insult he can think of as he approaches the door, and even when he lifts his hand to knock, he's still letting the curses fly fast and free.

 

 _Be professional,_ he tries to tell himself. Which is a bit of a joke. With Grimshaw, nothing is professional--it's purely personal.

 

Louis knocks once, twice, a third time.

 

'"Come in," Grimshaw calls, and Louis closes his eyes and grits his teeth.

 

He opens the door.

 

At first Grimshaw doesn't see him. He's too busy typing something on the computer, but when he does finally raise his eyes, his face breaks into a wicked grin. He leans back in his chair and folds his hands across his chest.

 

Louis hates him, he really does.

 

"Well, well," Nick smirks, "good to see you, Tomlinson. I'm quite busy with the acquisition of a certain oil company, but I _surely_ have time for you."

 

"Let's not do this now, yeah?" Louis says steadily. "I just need you to read the draft of the financial report I wrote up for JP Intel this morning so I can send it off."

 

"You need my help?" Nick acts surprised. "The man himself asking for _my_ opinion?"

 

"Don't let it get to your head, Grimshaw," Louis mutters. "Just sign off on it so we can part our ways. I've got better things to do."

 

"I'm sure you do, Tomlinson," Nick's smirk returns. He pauses, and then leans close until they're only a finger-width apart. "But first, tell me--aren't Harry's blowjobs just the most marvelous thing?"

 

Louis' body tenses. He's gripping the arm of his chair with an alarming amount of force.

 

" _Don't do this, Grimshaw."_

"I'm just asking man-to-man here," he laughs, his eyes gleaming. "I can make a bit of conversation on some middle ground we share, yeah? After all, we've both had Harry the same ways-- _if you know what I mean."_

A wave of anger passes over Louis that's so intense he swears he's never felt anything like it before. He wants to hit Nick. _God,_ he wants to hit him. He wants to smack that stupid fucking _smirk_ off his face for talking about Harry like he's a tool they've both used.

 

"I just find it funny, to be honest," Nick continues quietly, "how you've been leading everyone on. I know what you're doing, Tomlinson. I know how you've been manipulating Harry for the good of the company and I know how you've been tricking your father into thinking Harry is nothing to you. Must be a pretty tough situation to be in, I'm sure. I can't pretend to know which person means more to you, but I think you'll find I've made things... _marginally_ easier."

 

Nick laughs softly and leans back.

 

"Harry doesn't deserve what you're doing to him. I think we both know that."

 

The heat turns cold in Louis' veins.

 

His grip goes slack and his eyes close. Louis exhales, and he lets his head fall back.

 

There's no point in denying it. Nick isn't bluffing. Louis doesn't know _exactly_ how he figured it out, but it doesn't matter. He knows and that's all that's important.

 

Part of Louis thinks he deserves the tidalwave of guilt washing over him because Nick _is_ right--Louis is shitty for ever leading Harry on in the first place and he _definitely_ doesn't deserve it. Still, other half of him is overcome with a sense of dread. Nick's words, while they might be true, sound vengeful. Nick spent all last night with Harry. Harry hasn't contacted him since. It's a realization that makes Louis physically sick. There's no doubt in his mind Nick would sabotage things between him and Harry without any hesitation whatsoever. 

 

Louis lets out a rattling breath.

 

"Nick," he says softly. "Please... don't bring Harry into this."

 

There's a pause. Nick stares at him, his eyes emotionless.

 

"If you didn't want to him to be involved," he says coldly, "you should've left him alone in the first place. He isn't meant for you. He never was."

 

Louis can't do it anymore.

 

 He stands up and tosses the financial report on Nick's desk, turning to leave. Maybe he'll leave the firm forever. It seems like a good solution in the moment.

 

"And Tomlinson," Nick calls as Louis' hand grips the door handle. "I'll give Harry your regards. I'm sure you won't be giving them to Harry yourself for a while."

 

The last thing Louis sees before he storms out of the office is Nick's cold smile.

 

[*]

 

Get in the shower if it all goes wrong.

 

It's a philosophy Louis has upheld for a long time. There isn't much that can't be fixed with hot water, loud music, and the lights off, and Louis can't name a time when it hasn't worked for him.

 

Well. Except now.

 

It's eight p.m. and Louis has just emerged from the shower. He'd gotten home about twenty minutes earlier, and besides being absolutely exhausted, he was in an incredibly awful mood. Everything went wrong. So he got in the shower. And nothing got better.

 

His flat seems large and cold and unusually quiet without Harry's laughs echoing off the walls.  His living room is too clean without Harry's work stuff on his table, too empty without Harry sitting on the sofa, his knees pulled to his chest. Louis turns on the television to try and fill the quietness, but watching television isn't half as fun without Harry making quippy remarks about the program alongside him. Louis knows he lived like this before Harry came into his life, but now that he knows what it feels like to not be lonely, he hates everything about the silence hanging around his flat. It doesn't feel the same. It probably never will feel the same.

 

So Louis does what he always does when he doesn't want to deal with things--he drinks.

 

It isn't just a few sips here and there either. Louis is _drinking,_ full on chugging out of the bottle. He feels like a raging alcoholic and _that_ makes him feel stupid (because this is stupid, if he's honest) but stupid is better than guilty, _so._ Louis keeps drinking and hopes the alcohol burns away those green eyes in the same way it burns his throat.

 

 _I'm never falling in love,_ Louis tells himself as he swirls the vodka in the bottle, _if it sucks this bad._

(Somehow he thinks he's made that mistake already.)

 

And honestly, _fuck_ everything for reminding him of Harry. Louis can't go five minutes without looking over to the sofa, expecting to see Harry's curls spilling over his forehead as he works diligently. Harry used to make Louis wait through the adverts so he could see the ones about pet rescue, so _of course_ every advert connected to pets plays on the television. _Of course_ Harry's mug still sits on his coaster from the morning before. _Of course._ Everything is trying to make Louis feel as guilty as possible, and he _gets_ it. He's a shitty person. _He gets it._ He's greedy and power-hungry, just like his father. _He gets it._ He doesn't deserve Harry. _He gets it._ But does everything have to continuously punish him for it? _Apparently._

 

Louis' phone buzzes from beside him.

 

Maybe Louis is stupid for nearly pulling his back in a hurry to grab his phone. Maybe Louis is stupid for feeling his heart race. Maybe Louis is stupid for that familiar hopefulness expanding in his chest. Maybe Louis is stupid--

 

No. _Louis is stupid_. Especially for ever thinking that the text he receives would be from Harry.

 

It's just Liam, and the anticlimactic crash Louis feels is just as bad as the crash of a high. He still clicks on the notification despite himself.

 

_Zayn just asked me out :) I've got a boyfriendddddddd ha! Can you believe it louis?_

Louis reads the message in disbelief and locks his phone, well aware Liam will see the read recipient and know he ignored him.

 

Still. _Whoopy fucking doo._ Love works out for everyone! Everyone except Louis.

 

 

He tosses the vodka back and closes his eyes as it burns his lips.

 

-

 

The next two weeks pass in a blur.

 

 Nothing feels _realistic._ It's like a film--a really bad film, and Louis is in the audience, cringing with the terrible quality of the screen work. He wants the film to be over so he can complain about it. Or maybe get a refund for his money.

 

But this is reality. And there are no refunds.

 

Louis gets even less sleep, drinks more coffee, and stays at the office extra hours. Eleanor tells him he's going to work himself to death. Niall looks slightly concerned. Liam knows something is wrong. Harry still hasn't contacted him.

 

So yeah. Louis decides to work more. It keeps him away from home.

 

His flat still carries traces of Harry, even though it's been weeks since he last stayed. The sheets on his side of the bed are still waiting for him, exactly the way Harry left them. His extra clothes are folded in the corner. His toothbrush is next to Louis' in the bathroom. They're all little things, yeah, but Louis is too weak to get rid of them. Or maybe he's too hopeful. Too hopeful Harry will finally come home.

 

But he hasn't.

 

It's taking a toll on Louis. He's lost weight. The dark circles under his eyes are astonishingly prominent. He has a dead expression on his face more often then not. He stops listening to people in the middle of their sentences. Louis' hair--usually quiffed to perfection--is messy and tangled these days. His suits are wrinkled. His facial hair is growing out to shaggy lengths. The whole office is concerned for him because they've all noticed, of course, and Louis guesses they probably gossip about it in the cafeteria during break. He doesn't care. He really does not.

 

Nick Grimshaw seems to be the only one who looks completely _unperturbed_ by the whole situation.

 

He struts through the halls like he owns the place, his cool smile plastered on his face. Nick is quickly gaining ground in the firm because of Stan's absence, and word going around is that he's heading a second acquisition. After the raging success of his first acquisition, it would only make sense for him to be given another, but _still._ It's rare to head two acquisitions in a row, especially when Nick was just an investment analyst a month ago.

 

Nick hasn't talked to Louis since _that day._ Which is probably a good thing.

 

Still, he catches Louis' gaze every once in a while. Nick takes in his shabby appearance and hollowed face, and he smirks widely, the triumph in his eyes. Louis doesn't even have the fire in him to get angry anymore. Nick won. Nick got Harry and Nick is taking over Louis' dominance in the firm.

 

_Game over._

Louis comes home late at night and drinks more often than not. He goes to sleep with drunk thoughts on his mind and green eyes chasing his dreams. It's never very restless--he'll wake up in the dead of the night when sleep refuses to pull him back under, when the sensation of Harry's warm body next to him haunts his thoughts, when he isn't sure if the burn on his lips is from the alcohol or the memory of how kissing Harry made him feel.

 

He goes to his roof a lot. It sounds strange, but Louis likes to sit above the streets, the moon hanging in the shadow-painted sky as he watches the city breathe into the night. He looks between the maze of buildings and knows somewhere deep in the cement jungle, Harry is sleeping a lot more restfully than he is. Which is kind of peaceful to think about. Louis always did like to watch Harry sleep. But it's mostly lonely.

 

A lot of things are these days.

 

Especially with Liam and Niall, both of whom are in committed relationships now. Liam and Zayn have been going strong for a while, and Niall _finally_ got the guts to ask out Barbara. He talks about how great she is _all the time_ and even though it exasperates Louis, he's glad to see Niall's keeping up on his rent payments and has someone to make him happy. Niall deserves it, he really does.

 

With Zayn and Liam though, it hits a little closer to home. Liam is clearly in love with Zayn and Zayn feels the same way. Louis sees it in the way Liam's eyes linger on Zayn when he laughs. He sees it in the way Zayn's breath catches as Liam touches him gently. He sees it in the way they position themselves on Louis' sofa when they come over--Zayn with his head resting on Liam's chest in much the same way Harry used to with him. They aren't too bad around Louis because they know he's touchy about that kind of thing, but still. It doesn't really help.

 

Liam tries to talk about it with him one night.

 

Zayn had fallen asleep on the sofa, and Louis made some excuse to go sit on the rooftop again, a bottle of vodka by his side. He doesn't even hear Liam approach until Liam sits down next to him and takes a deep drink of the alcohol.

 

" _Shit,"_ his face twists in discomfort. "That's strong, Louis. _Too strong._ You've never been into drinking like this. You've never _acted_ like this. You've lost weight. You look half-dead. You never sleep. And now this alcohol--it's all concerning, Louis."

 

"Mhm," Louis says distantly, his eyes fixed on the city below him. "Wanted something more potent, I suppose."

 

They don't speak for a while. Louis continues drinking. Liam doesn't take his gaze off his best friend. No, Louis isn't the same person he was a month ago. He is the shadow of his best friend. And Liam doesn't know exactly _why_ Louis is spiraling downhill so quickly, but he can make a decent guess.

 

"You know," Liam says quietly, "all you have to do is talk to him."

 

He feels Louis freeze next to him.

 

"No," Louis says flatly. "That's not an option. He hates me, Liam. _I_ hate me, for Christ sake."

 

"You don't know that."

 

"Yeah, I do."

 

" _How?_ Has he said those words to you?"

 

There's a decent pause. Louis brings his tired eyes upwards to meet Liam's. The fiery confidence is gone from their depths. He looks so worn out, and _that_ isn't the Louis Tomlinson Liam knows.

 

"Nick Grimshaw," Louis says slowly. "He's friends with... _him._ Harry, I mean. And he found out about the merger deal somehow. And he told Harry. He hinted about it when I saw him a few weeks back, and Harry hasn't contacted me since then, _so_. I led him on, Liam. He trusted me and I broke that. I don't deserve to be forgiven."

 

 _"Yes_    _you do._ Talk to him, Louis," Liam says gently. "Make it right. You can't keep acting like it didn't happen because it's killing you. _Literally._ And I know you're odd about romance, but anyone who saw you around Harry could see you loved him, Louis. You still do."

 

_"No--"_

" _Listen_ ," Liam laughs sadly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I know you're stubborn. I know you're the last person who would admit to actually caring for someone. You're affectionate in your own way, and that's _okay._ But ever since I met Zayn, I've learned what love is. And I can see the same thing in you."

 

Louis exhales tiredly and runs a hand down his unshaven face.

 

"He's just a kid," he murmurs under his breath, staring at his feet. "He's a kid with a lopsided smile and messy hair and green eyes and a sweet temperament and he's doing this to me, Liam. I just don't _get it,_ and I don't think I want to. The more you know, the more you care. The more you care, the more you have to lose."

 

"That isn't the point. You need him," Liam says firmly. " _Christ,_ Louis, you need him so badly. He completed you in so many ways. _And God knows_ he needs you too. I've tried to stay objective about the whole situation with the company and Harry, but I can't do it any longer. Harry is the only choice that's ever been there for you, Louis. He made you happier than I've ever seen you. At the end of the day, when you're in bed and you're thinking about your successes, it won't be the CEO position there to keep you warm, to kiss you softly, to stroke your skin. Keep that in mind."

 

Liam gets up with a yawn and stretches his back. He picks up the vodka bottle from Louis' side. Louis doesn't protest it. He keeps his gaze fixed on the city, his eyes glassy, his body motionless.

 

"Just promise me you'll at least call him, yeah?"

 

Louis hesitates for a second too long.

 

"Yeah, all right. I will."

 

Liam sighs and shakes his head sadly. He walks down the fire escape and back into Louis' flat.

 

Both of them know it was a pitiful attempt at a lie.

 

[*]

 

Louis tugs at his collar nervously.

 

He adjusts his glasses. He runs a self-conscious hand through his hair.

 

The large conference room is deserted. Louis checks his watch. _He's on time_. The rest of the chairs around the long table seem large and intimidating and hauntingly empty. But they won't be for long-- _and that's precisely what's making Louis nervous._

In this case--for the first time ever--when Mark contacted him, Louis had no idea what to expect.

 

On the phone, he didn't say much--but he hardly ever does. Mark simply said he'd arranged for the whole executive board to be present during an important meeting, and for Louis to look his best. He gave him a time and then hung up, _nothing more._ That was last night--nearly twenty-four hours ago--and Louis hasn't stopped stressing about it since.

 

There's just no way Louis can explain _why_ Mark would do such a thing, especially considering the fact he hasn't called Louis since their dinner weeks ago. The silence in itself has been slightly disconcerting, but this is a whole new level of alarming. Louis isn't sure if he's going to get sick or pass out. Maybe a combination of both.

 

Louis is fixing his tie when the door bursts open.

 

A flood of people walk in, all chattering cordially. It startles Louis; he gets to his feet nervously and watches as they file in one after another, all looking powerful and put-together. Mark is the last one to enter the room.

 

He looks delighted as he claps Louis on the back. He leans in and whispers something.

 

"I'm so proud of you, son. This is a big day."

 

_(Louis is utterly confused.)_

 

But he doesn't let on as such. He just sits down and keeps his eyes fixed forward.

 

"All right, ladies and gentlemen of the executive board," Mark claps his hands together once everyone has taken their seats and quieted down. Louis counts eight at the table all together, not including himself or Mark. "I'd like to thank you for your time in coming out here today. As you know, I have big news to share."

 

He puts his hand in the small of Louis' back and gives him a small push him forward. Louis jerks in surprise, still completely bewildered about the whole situation.

 

All eight members--four women and four men--have their eyes fixed on Louis. They don't exactly look mean, but not friendly either. Cold, calculating, shrewd. Much like Mark himself.

 

"This is my son, Louis Tomlinson," Mark says proudly. "He works in every aspect of the firm, from financial advising to investment management. He's been a natural talent since the first day he stepped foot in my firm, and it is through him that I hate wonderful news for you all today!"

 

A smattering of applause breaks out. Louis nods his thanks uncertainly.

 

_He still has no idea what he's done._

"I'd like you to meet Lou Teasdale, Executive Vice President," Mark continues. Louis shakes her hand. She gives him a cautious smile. "Next to her, we have Simon Cowell, the Chief Financial Officer. Joining him are Ben Winston, Zoe Whelan, and Caroline Watson, who represent major shareholders of our client's respective companies. Last, but certainly not least, our outside directors--Matthew Squire and Rami Yacoub."

 

Louis shakes the remaining board member's hands respectfully, and then takes his place at the table.

 

He wishes he understood what was happening.

 

'"Now, you all are aware of the threat we faced from HC Stock Exchange, a company ran by Harry Styles?" Mark asks. Louis' heart jumps at the name, and he doesn't even realize everyone else is nodding. "Right, well. As you recall, the situation was quite serious, and I spent many hours thinking of how I should address it. The person I would assign the job of solving this problem would have to be innovative, a natural leader, a quick thinker, and obviously skilled in the ways of business. In the end, after much debate, I assigned Louis the task.

 

"Not only has he successfully disposed of the threat, but he has created a door of new opportunity," Mark looks at him in pride again, and Louis feels his confusion turn to a bit of dread. "I am _delighted_ to announce that Harry Styles has consented to a merger deal with Tomlinson Trading as of last night!"

 

 _Real_ applause breaks out. There are murmurs of admiration all around, and a few cheers in his direction.

 

Louis feels numb.

 

 _Merger deal?_ Since when did Harry agree to that? Louis remembers bringing up the topic weeks  ago, but that was all very tentative and in-the-moment. Nothing serious, and definitely nothing permanent. Harry understood the implications of signing the deal with Mark and not Louis himself. He _told_ Louis. He knew Louis was pushing him towards the same goal because Nick would've warned him. Harry had all the red flags and he is _far_ from stupid. He didn't do this because Louis' pitiful persuasive attempt at the deal. No, Harry has a much deeper reason behind it, and Louis is desperately wanting to know what would be, considering this looks like a fatal mistake on Harry's part.

 

"Louis, would you like to say a few words about the deal?" Mark asks. Louis startles. "You know the details yourself, seeing as you arranged it."

 

"Sure," Louis says uncertainly. He clears his throat and stands up, feeling extremely vulnerable and extremely ridiculous. Everyone is staring at him expectantly. "Right, the merger deal. Um. Harry and I... We discussed it over several weeks. I told him it would be best if he agreed to the deal because the monopolization of the market would come in the wake of the agreement. He had no qualms and just... er.... said yes."

 

Louis clears his throat awkwardly again. His speech was less than riveting and a lot less professional than Mark would've hoped for, but he says nothing. In fact, no one says anything. No applause this time.

 

Louis sits down quickly and closes his eyes. _God._ He hates this. He wish he didn't show up to the meeting in the first place.

 

Mark takes the floor again and redirects the meeting. Clearly a change of subject is needed after Louis so brutally killed the conversation.

 

There's a terse pause.

 

"In lieu of recent events, I decided I would use today to deliver my own good news," Mark's sharp blue eyes gleam with passion. "It's a question that's been tossed around for weeks now, and I know the anticipation is running high in terms of my answer. But, after long thought, I _have_ decided on the next CEO."

 

The mood shifts perceptibly. Louis feels himself go numb.

 

"I think I have always known, but the remarkable feat he recently accomplished solidified the choice for me," Mark smiles and puts a hand on Louis' shoulder. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present Louis Tomlimson as the next appointed CEO of _Tomlinson Trading!"_

The board claps again as Louis feels his heart physically stop. He'd been so caught up in the fact Harry agreed to the merger deal that he'd completely forgotten the whole _point_ of getting Harry to agree.

 

  _The CEO position._

After ten long years of dreaming, Louis knows he should feel more excited. This moment should be more earth-shattering, he should be overcome with joy and emotion. After all, it's the realization of _all_ he's ever wanted--

 

But Louis doesn't feel any of those things. Louis mostly feels tired. He just misses Harry.

 

Champagne is popped and drinks are passed around happily. Toasts are said in his name, and Louis exchanges brief conversation with each of the board members, all of whom extend their congratulations. Some are more cold than the next--Ben Winston comes off as mocking when he approaches Louis--but that's to be expected. Not everyone is gong to be pleased with the choice; Louis has known that since day one.

 

Louis is the next CEO.

 

It doesn't feel real, to be honest.

 

After they're all pleasantly full with champagne (Louis more than others; he gets nervous and drinks when he doesn't know what to do) Mark opens up the forum for everyone to input their opinions. He's infamous for doing such a thing--even though he's already finalized his decision, he likes to hear other people's thoughts and concerns.

 

"Before we disband for the day," Mark says loudly, clapping his hands together. "I wanted to remind you that we will be holding a corporate event to announce Louis' selection to the entire company and its affiliates in two weeks' time. Still, as it is, I would like to hear what you all have to say about the choice."

 

Mark has barely sat down before the one Louis recognizes as Ben Winston is standing up, looking entirely too smug.

 

"In all due respect, Louis," Ben starts in a simpering tone, "you're extremely young. Is it really  ideal to give his inexperience the responsibility of power?"

 

"Fair point," Mark nods and Ben smiles coolly. "However, Louis will not be taking the CEO position until he is twenty-six. He will have two years to study underneath me. There is no better way for him to learn, and I am confident that the time will help sharpen his already-impressive talents."

 

Ben gives Louis a superior look that clearly says _I don't think so._ Louis just blinks at him, and then turns his attention to his champagne.

 

He honestly just wants this to be over.

 

But nothing is ever that easy for Louis, and the meeting ends up lasting another hour. The forum turns into an open debate with six of the board members backing Louis' choice and the other two (Ben and Simon; _surprise surprise)_ calling it foolishness. Mark fights passionately for Louis' side, and in the end Simon halfway believes it's a good choice. Ben, on the other hand, only ridicules the idea more and more as time goes on.

 

Louis isn't paying attention at all.

 

It's like he's not even part of the room. No one brings him into the discussion, even though they're talking about him. Which is okay. Louis doesn't care, especially what a few nameless faces think about his qualities. Even though a month or so ago, Louis would've hung onto their every word.

 

It's funny, how the time changes.

 

By time Louis is serious danger of dozing off, the debate is broken up by Lou Teasdale. She apologizes, but says she has to take a call and Louis--Louis decides he likes her the best. It's her hurried exit that finally reminds the rest of the board they've been here too long.

 

"Thank you all for your time," Mark calls over the shuffling of papers as the board packs up their things. "I'll be meeting with you all next week for the executive review!"

 

Louis watches them leave the office, one after another. He feels tired, he thinks. Maybe a little weary. And not at all like the next CEO of Tomlinson Trading should.

 

He's staring at his waterglass when he feels the presence of his father over his shoulder.

 

"I must admit," Mark starts, clapping Louis on the shoulder. Louis winces. "I had my doubts about you. But you did it, son. You did it."

 

Louis doesn't answer.

 

"And now you're soon to join me at the top," Mark continues wistfully. "Goodness knows I've wanted this day for so long. I know you're probably in too much shock to discuss much, but that's okay. You'll have lots of time to talk about your new status at the corporate banquet in two weeks' time. The banquet will be an elegant way to introduce the news and to celebrate the dawning of a new era, eh?"

 

Mark chuckles, then heaves a sigh. He picks up his briefcase and pauses at the door, giving Louis a strange look.

 

"You sure you're all right, Louis?"

 

There's a pause. Mark's blue eyes search Louis' own empty ones, his eyebrows furrowed.

 

"Yeah," Louis mumbles after a moment. " _Peachy."_

The lie comes easily. They all do these days.

 

[*] 

 

 

Today is the day of the realization of all his dreams and Louis--

 

Louis feels tired by time he clocks out.

 

People know the news, of course. Eleanor gave him a knowing smile and a thumbs-up as he left for the day. Some stock broker stopped to congratulate him. Louis just nods and doesn't smile and hopes they don't keep him too long.

 

He's sitting in his car, staring listlessly ahead when his phone buzzes. He pulls it out of his pocket. It's Niall calling. Louis sends it to voicemail. Niall calls six more times. Louis turns his phone off.

 

Louis isn't satisfied.

 

 _This_ was supposed to be the answer to all his problems. Louis was counting on getting his dream job to fix whatever dissatisfaction he felt with his life and the people in it, but he just feels terribly empty. It's worse than before, Louis thinks. He doesn't feel successful. He doesn't feel fulfilled. He certainly isn't _proud_ of the actions that got him here. Louis has reached the top and he's looking down and wondering exactly _when_ he lost what matters most to him, because _this_ isn't it.

 

Louis' fingers drum on the steering wheel.

 

It's seven p.m. Louis knows he would be home. His mother would probably be there. Gemma too. Louis is aching to see him, and just the idea sends his stomach into knots. Would he even be _willing_ to talk to Louis? Probably. He's too kind to shut Louis out. Would it mend whatever mess Louis has made? _Probably not._

Louis exhales shakily and closes his eyes.

 

Liam said that he was all Louis really needed. Louis didn't believe it. He truly thought that the CEO position would be the cure-all, the recipe for happiness. Curly hair, green eyes and dimples weren't on the pathway to success, so Louis ignored Liam and didn't think anything of it.

 

Now knows just how right Liam was.

 

-

 

The rain is pouring as Louis stands outside the modest door.

 

It's in the heart of London, near the middle-class neighbourhoods. The flat is certainly _comfortable_ enough, but not exactly the kind of thing Louis pictured from the founder of a flourishing business. There's no luxury to it, no extravagance, and Louis knows deep inside it's something he would prize. He isn't like most CEOs, after all. He doesn't betray who he is.

 

Louis stares at the door for a long time.

 

His hair is plastered to his face and his jumper hangs limply off his frame. His glasses are smeared with raindrops and he shivers in the cold, but Louis still stands there, unsure of how to start this. He feels stupid, he thinks. But he needs to be here. No matter how stupid, how vulnerable, how exposed he feels, this is where Louis will finally get his answers and maybe the closure he's looking for, whether it be good or bad. It's the hardest thing Louis has ever had to do, and there's a lump in his throat as he knocks sharply on the door.

 

There's some shuffling from inside, and the door is pulled back within seconds. A woman stands there, looking quite tired and quite suspicious. She's in her mid-forties and she has the same chestnut hair as her daughter, the same facial features as her son. Louis' chest aches. He's finally meeting Harry's mum. Just not in the way he'd ever imagined it.

 

"Hello," Louis starts uncertainly. "Er--you must be Anne. It's a pleasure."

 

He sticks out his hand and she makes no move to shake it. Her eyes are fixed on him, and a quiet loathing burns behind her eyes.

 

"You must be Louis Tomlinson," she whispers, the disgust heavy in her voice. "You are _repulsive._ Just like your horrible father. He doesn't want to see you, Louis. None of us do. You should clear off."

 

The words stab him, one after another, like a dagger to his chest. Louis flinches and closes his eyes. He can feel the pain spreading slowly from the wound, dull and potent and furious.

 

"Please," he croaks, his voice breaking at the end, "please, Anne. I need to speak with him. I need him to know how _sorry_ I am. He can hate my guts afterwards, but I need to tell him that. _Please."_

 

"You should leave," Anne repeats coldly. "You're not welcome here."

 

She starts to close the door, but Louis sticks his foot out.

 

" _Please!"_ Louis cries desperately. "Just tell him I'm here. Let him choose if he talks to me, but _please_ just tell him I'm here--"

 

"Mum?"

 

There's a distant voice in the background, a deep, distinct one. Louis' heart does a summersault. He hasn't heard it in so long. _God,_ Louis misses the way his mouth wraps around his words lazily. He misses _him_ so bad. It sends Louis' mind spinning.

 

"Just a minute, Harry. I'll be there shortly," Anne says to him. He must be standing right behind the door, just out of Louis' sight.

 

"No." His words ring in the air. Louis feels himself freeze up. "Who's there?"

 

He moves behind his mother and peeks out of the door. His eyes find Louis.

 

_The moment freezes in time._

Louis' breath catches in his chest. His heart pounds madly. He forgot how _beautiful_ Harry could look with tousled hair and tired green eyes after a long shift at work. He looks much the same as he did before, except a little less cheery, a little less bright. It's the same Harry Louis used to come home to, and now--he stands a few feet away, and it feels like a thousand for all the distance between them.

 

Harry's face drains of color. His eyes widen briefly, and his lips turn downward. He looks weary.

 

"I can handle this, mum," Harry murmurs. "Tell Gems I'll be back to help her in a few minutes."

 

Anne nods and squeezes his hand. She steps back and gives Louis one last look of loathing.

 

Harry closes the door. They're both standing in the rain, just staring at each other.

 

"Louis."

 

Harry is the first one to break the silence. He says the name tiredly, but it still makes Louis' heart race like before.

 

"Hi Harry," he says softly.

 

Pause. They stare at each other.

 

"Is there a reason why you came?" Harry says, folding his arms across his chest. "Or are you here on another one of Mark's missions? Playing his pawn again, yeah?"

 

The words hurt more than Anne's did. Louis feels like he's just been punched in the gut.

 

" _Harry_ ," Louis moans, closing his eyes. " _Please._ You know that isn't the case. That isn't what it was about..."

 

"Yeah, well _you fooled me,"_ Harry mutters. He blinks rapidly, one twice, a third time. A tear courses down his cheek and intermingles with the rain tricking down his skin. He loses whatever anger he had and slumps hopelessly, cupping his face in his hands. "God, Louis. I should hate you so badly. I should leave you here on my doorstep. But I can't. I still think I love you and I'm trying _so_ hard not to, but it's always been a losing fight. You invade my mind and I can't get you out and I know I should just _move on--_ "

 

Harry breaks off and takes a rattling breath. He brings his gaze upwards to Louis.

 

"Give me a reason to hate you," he says quietly. "Make this easier. Make me want to push you away, because _God_ knows I can't do it myself."

 

And now he's crying in earnest, his chest heaving and his breaths coming short and fast. Louis watches hopelessly as his hair obscures his face and his body shakes. He can't do anything. He can't comfort Harry. He can't provide solace because _he's_ the one causing the misery.

 

Louis has never felt more terrible in his entire life.

 

"Harry," Louis says listlessly, feeling a lump grow in his throat. "When my father first gave me this task I didn't know. I didn't understand. I'd never met anyone who made me feel so... _excited_ for no reason other than being close to them. It was all a duty to me, part of my job, and my job was my love. I did it for Mark and the company at first, I can't lie, but that isn't how it ended.

 

"The first time I talked to you, I knew it was going to be harder than I ever expected. I liked you. I liked your green eyes and curly hair and happy smile and intelligent words. I didn't _know_ I liked you, but now I realize that it was never really a job from that moment on. I wanted to be around you all the _time_ and it drove me mad because that wasn't supposed to happen. My father said I just had to finish this one task and he would give me the CEO position and I could move on with my life, but it just _didn't work out that way."_

 

Louis takes a deep breath. His voice keeps cracking in odd ways.

 

"I knew I loved you the morning when I first woke up with you next to me," he says softly, his eyes fixed on Harry. " _God._ It was like this feeling in my chest, this _uncontrollable_ happiness that expanded until I couldn't breathe right, all because I was with you. I knew then that the company wasn't what I wanted. It was _you._ It always has been, I think, but I've never been brave enough to admit it.

 

"And that's when it really started to hit me--I had to choose between you or the company. The company had meant so much to me for so long. It was my life, Harry. The only thing I'd ever found happiness in until I met you. My job was everything to me, and I knew it would always be there, no matter what. With you... God, I was in up to my eyes _._ I knew what I felt for you was deep and profound, but it took _this_ for me to realize it was love. Christ, Harry, I _loved_ you. I loved you so badly and I was so scared you wouldn't feel the same way, and I closed out the possibility of us ever being anything. It was fear of rejection, fear of being so _vulnerable,_ fear of a feeling I'd never experienced before, and I made the mistake of picking my job over you."

 

Louis closes his eyes. Harry is still crying quietly. The rain makes them both shiver.

 

"Then it all came to the surface," Louis continues softly after a pause. "Nick found out. I don't know how, but he did. He told you, which is something I should've done a long time ago. There isn't anything I can say to describe the guilt, shame, and self-loathing that's overwhelmed me since. I haven't slept well in two weeks. I can't go home without seeing you _everywhere._ I can't  close my eyes without picturing the way you woke up next to me, the way you work with your hair falling over your face, the way you lower your eyes when you're embarrassed and _Christ,_ Harry, it made me realize how much I need you. You're all that's ever mattered to me. The job is just a void, a chasm that'll keep pulling me down if I keep chasing it. But you're something _real,_ something tangible, and you've given me everything I've been missing in my life. I love you, Harry, I love you so much it _hurts_ and I want you to know that, no matter what happens."

 

The words ring in the air. Louis' chest is heaving. Harry is overwhelmed, his eyes red and puffy.

 

"I couldn't hate you if your hands were around my neck," Harry whispers. "I couldn't hold anything against you either. I want to be angry with you, Louis. I'm trying _so hard._ But I can't. I can't be angry and I can't hate you. I can't forgive you so easily because I haven't quite processed it all, but I accept your apology. I know I shouldn't, but I do."

 

Louis feels dizzy with relief. He slumps forward and closes his eyes. Those are the only words he's wanted to hear for weeks, and now that Harry has said them, Louis feels like something is clicking back into place. It's by no means fixed, but it's the start he's been waiting for.

 

"That's all I could've ever asked from you," Louis says weakly. "Thank you, Harry. I can leave if you don't want me here, but _thank you_."

 

"No," Harry wipes his face. "I've missed you so badly, Louis. I want to go home."

 

"Home?"

 

"Yeah," Harry says softly, nodding towards Louis' car. "I want to go home."

 

The weight of Harry's words crash into Louis like a tidalwave. All the emotion he's been holding back for the past two weeks opens in a floodgate, sweeping Louis beneath the waters and holding him there. His lungs burn, his vision blurs, his limbs feel heavy, but _he's going to make it._ Louis feels breathless. Harry wants to come home _. They're going to make it._

 

"Okay, Harry," Louis smiles tiredly. "Let's go home."

 

[*]

 

 

It isn't like before.

 

The scene looks the same, of course. Harry is sitting on the sofa, his hair damp and his knees folded to his chest. His mug is filled with steaming tea again. His packed bag sits by the door, a quiet reminder that Harry has come back, maybe even for good.

 

It's less lonely, but there's still something missing.

 

Everything the pair of them do is so tentative, like they're relearning how to act around each other. Louis apologizes when he brushes Harry's hand. Harry adverts his gaze when Louis catches him staring. They listen to some television program in silence, neither of them really paying any attention to it. Mostly Louis is trying to remember how it felt before with Harry versus now. He can't picture what they were previous to this, and it takes him a long time to realize that's a good thing. The past is over.

 

Harry is the first one to break the silence.

 

"So," he says carefully, sipping his tea, "are you aware of the merger deal I signed last night?"

 

Louis freezes. He looks up at Harry.

 

"Yeah," he murmurs. "Yeah, I am. I don't get it, though. You knew that deal was a trick, right? Mark never planned for it to be fair."

 

"Of course I knew," Harry smiles humorlessly. "I didn't sign it for Mark. I signed it for _you._ I was aware that if I agreed to the deal, Mark would give you the CEO position, and I knew how much that meant to you. Mum was _furious._ She still is. Gemma hasn't talked to me since."

 

Louis feels a rush of gratitude mixed with guilt wash over him.

 

"You didn't have to do that, you know," he says quietly. "God, Harry, you did _not_ have to. I don't deserve it, especially with the sacrifice you made on my behalf."

 

"No, Louis," Harry waves away his concern. "You do deserve it. You're a great leader, much more kind than your father ever will be. I wanted to give you the gift of your dream, but I also had other motivations for signing it. See, there was one small loophole in your father's plan..."

 

"Oh?"

 

"By making you CEO, he abdicates his power early," Harry says in satisfaction. "I knew if I made the deal that got him out of power twenty years sooner than anyone could've hoped for, then I would be doing everyone a favor. Sure, the company will suffer until you take over, but we have enough funds to get us through. When you're CEO, I'm sure you'll make things easier on us."

 

"Harry," Louis laughs in disbelief. It's the first time he's laughed in weeks. "You _genius._ That's absolutely brilliant. I didn't even consider such a thing!"

 

"Yeah, well," Harry smiles shyly. "I do have some forethought every once in a while. So, has Mark made you CEO?"

 

"As of today," Louis grins back. "The full terms of the company inheritance  haven't been laid yet, but I'm to take over in two years. I'm sure Mark will announce this all at the corporate banquet in a few weeks."

 

"Congratulations," Harry says, his eyes gleaming. "I'm proud of you, Louis. I'm not sure I quite get what you mean by _corporate banquet_ though."

 

"It's just an overly fancy event with too many people," Louis says dismissively. He pauses, and his face grows softer. "However, it is a night of surprises, and I think you could be quite a juicy one."

 

"Is that right?" Harry raises an eyebrow. "And how so?"

 

Louis pauses. He knows he could be risking a lot by proposing the idea running through his mind, but Harry risked a lot in signing that merger deal. Harry risked a lot in forgiving him. Harry is brave and Louis is a coward and it's time for him to take a stand.

 

He exhales, and then opens his eyes.

 

"I want us to go together," Louis says steadily. "We don't have to put a label on exactly _what_ we are--I think it's better that way as it is--but I want people to know we're together. Let them figure out what the rest means."

 

There's a pause. Harry's face lights up, his eyes glimmer, and his pink lips curl into a smile.

 

"Louis," he says, so full of happiness he's nearly bursting out of his seams, "that would mean so much to me, it really would. It's a big risk on your part, especially because people don't know about your--"

 

"Shh," Louis gets up to go to the sofa. Harry nearly pulls him over when he gets close enough--in fact, Louis tumbles right on top of Harry. They're inches apart, their breaths heavy and their eyes interlocked. He's so close to Harry he can smell the scent of his shampoo, see the freckle on the bridge of his nose, watch the way his eyelashes fawn across his cheeks. Harry is so beautiful-- _so incredibly beautiful--_ -and Louis missed him like this, so vulnerable and open. "I don't care what other people think about it. I care about _you._ And I'm tired of always lying about things, especially when it comes to my love life. So we'll go together and we'll let them run their mouths, but at the end of the day, we're going to own the stock market in two years anyway."

 

" _Louis!"_ Harry laughs, his eyes growing wide. "I didn't even think about that, but you're right. Kind of scary to think about, really.'"

 

"Well, we've got time," Louis drops his voice and buries his face into Harry's neck. "Plus there's other pressing matters on hand. It's been far too long since I kissed you. Can I?"

 

"Why do you ever think you have to ask?" Harry says breathlessly as Louis pulls back. "Of course, Louis. _Always."_

****

Harry is watching Louis with an eager apprehension and Louis-- _Louis wants to take in this moment_. Harry is underneath him, his hands cupping Louis' face gently. Louis has his hands on either side of Harry's head as he holds himself above him. His breathing is ragged and his heart is beating too fast and he realizes just how badly he needs this intimacy, both body and mind. Harry's touch _does things_ to him. It's soothing and exciting and arousing all at the same time and Louis--

 

Louis kisses Harry.

 

It's slow and sweet and searching. There's no rush, no urgency, no pressure, because they've got _time._ Time to figure this out, time to feel their way through the new road they're walking, time to make it right. Louis has Harry and Harry has Louis and that's more than they could've asked for three weeks ago.

 

Neither of them pull back.

 

It feels so _good_ to have Harry like this. Louis can taste the tea on Harry's tongue, the sweet sugar still heavy on his lips. He can feel Harry's heartbeat against him, hard and fast as a hammer. He can hear Harry's little sighs of pleasure as he moves against Louis, seeking all he can find with a gentle eagerness. Harry wraps his hands in Louis' hair and keeps him pinned in place and Louis feels a thrill at Harry's persistent wanting. It makes Louis realize that Harry needs him in the same ways Louis needs Harry--with sweet kisses and exploring touches and silvery sighs.

 

Louis is breathless when he finally emerges for air.

 

They're both breathing heavily. It's the only sound in the room. Harry's eyes are gleaming brightly and his cheeks are flushed and his lips are pink. There's a wondrous smile spreading across his face as his eyes search Louis' features.

 

"You're beautiful, Louis," he sighs in fascination, brushing a piece of hair off Louis' face. "You're so, so beautiful. I don't tell you enough, but you make me feel dizzy with your glowing brilliance."

 

"Stop," Louis laughs, giving Harry a quick forehead kiss. "You're love-drunk. And I'm tired."

 

"Maybe I am," Harry shrugs unapologetically, "still, all the same, it's true."

 

Harry yawns deeply and Louis sits back until he's straddling Harry's hips.

 

"I'm tired too, Louis," he blinks sleepily. "Let's go to bed."

 

Louis smiles and stands up, stretching his back. He turns off the television and the lights while Harry puts away the coffee mugs for the next day. He hears Harry shuffling in the kitchen as he makes his way to the bedroom, feeling way more content than he has in months.

 

Louis is undressing by time Harry joins him. Harry comes behind up and wraps his arms around Louis' bare torso and rests his chin on Louis' shoulder blade. Louis laughs tiredly.

 

"You're absolutely shameless, Harry. I'm _undressing_."

 

"Mhm. That's the point."

 

Harry kisses his neck softly, and then sucks hard. Louis yelps and writhes with the pain of it, but Harry pulls back before it hurts too badly, making a contented sound deep in his throat.

 

"I've always wanted to do that," Harry says, clearly satisfied as he presses his finger in the center of the bruise. Louis winces. "I think you're going to look nice and purple tomorrow."

 

"I have _work!"_ Louis sighs in exasperation. "My first day as the official appointed CEO, and I'm going to show up with a _lovebite._ What does that say about me, Harry?"

 

"That you're having a better night than most other people in the firm," Harry grins. "Leave them guessing, right?"

 

"Harry. _You're unbelievable."_

 

Harry is still looking overly self-satisfied as he gets into his side of the bed--the side of the bed that Louis hasn't fixed since Harry last slept there. Harry looks so natural, so comfortable, so relaxed, and it makes Louis swell with contentment. It's like nothing ever changed.

 

He's facing Harry as he sighs happily, pushing Harry's hair off his forehead. The moonlight splashes Harry's features in a silvery glow, leaving the rest of his body in the shadows. Harry blinks slowly, lazily, like a tired cat and Louis bites his lip to stop from smiling.

 

"I missed you here, kiddo," Louis murmurs. "You make everything feel right."

 

"Mhm," Harry says sleepily. "I'm glad to be back home too. Good night, Louis."

 

"G'night."

 

Louis closes his eyes and feels sleep overtake him within minutes. The night loses its potency, his dreams lose their power, and the darkness doesn't seem so haunting anymore. It's been three weeks since Louis went to sleep sober, happy, and not _afraid_ for what sleep would bring him and he knows it's all because Harry is by his side again. 

 

The thought leaves Louis with a smile on his face as he drifts off.

 

 

[*]

 

 

Six in the morning comes _way_ too soon.

 

Louis opens his eyes groggily and gives an irritated groan as his alarm cuts the silence shrilly. He fumbles with it until its quiet once more and collapses against his pillow again.

 

Except something is different.

 

Louis hears noise from the kitchen, the soft singing of a pretty voice. He smells breakfast cooking. He sees the light flooding from beneath his bedroom door, and Louis--Louis is overwhelmed with the realization that the morning isn't quiet and lonely anymore. The morning isn't something to dread because _Harry came home_ and the excitement sparks through Louis' veins again. He sits up and grins and thinks how _silly_ it is that this kid does _this_ to him.

 

Louis shuffles to the kitchen after he's found his glasses and bathrobe to find Harry cooking something delicious. He's in a loose white t-shirt and a pair of _very_ tight boxers and his hair is still tousled from sleep. He's singing some sweet song, and he doesn't even hear Louis until Louis clears his throat from behind him.

 

" _Louis!"_ Harry jumps and nearly upsets the beaten eggs. "Oh _jeez._ You need to work on your conversation starters instead of just startling someone!"

 

"Sorry," Louis grins. His eyes dart down to Harry's boxers, and his grin grows. "Well, this is a nice surprise. _Very_ nice."

 

" _You're_ the shameless one, Louis," Harry says in exasperation as he turns back to the eggs. "You always tell me that _I'm_ ridiculous, but look at yourself. It's not even seven in the morning!"

 

"Yeah, well," Louis pats Harry on the backside, "you bring out the worst in me."

 

The tips of Harry's ears burn pink. He slaps Louis away as he reaches for a bit of toast.

 

"Your mum must've had quite the time with you," Harry scoffs, but his face is still slightly flushed. "Do I have to tell you not to eat before the meal is ready? Do I have to go out and buy _everything_ for this breakfast at five in the morning because a certain _adult_ doesn't even have a bread drawer! Do I have to pick up your messy bathroom because a certain someone hasn't tided it in weeks?"

 

"Did I really not have food?" Louis murmurs, raising an eyebrow. He sits at the barstool behind the kitchen island. "I could've _sworn_ I had milk."

 

"It was two weeks expired, Louis," Harry closes his eyes in exasperation. "You really can't live alone, can you?"

 

"You're telling _me._ I need you, Harry. _Literally."_

"Surprised you haven't starved to death," Harry says to himself as the eggs sizzle. "No, scratch that. I'm surprised you haven't _poisoned_ yourself by drinking the most sour milk I've ever seen in my life!"

 

Louis chuckles and thanks Harry fervently as he slides over a cup of steaming coffee. It's too hot to drink, so he just wraps his hands gratefully around the base and waits for the steaming plate of eggs to join the countertop with the mug.

 

Harry sits next to him moments later, handing them both silverware. He's about to turn away and give attention to his breakfast when he freezes. His eyes grow wide.

 

"Louis," he laughs in astonishment, covering his mouth. " _Oh god."_

"What?" Louis' mouth is full with eggs, so the word comes out mumbled.

 

"Your _neck!"_ Harry says gleefully. "It's so _purple!_ Go look!"

Louis' eyes now grow wide too and he rushes from the barstool to the bathroom with Harry's laughter following him. He flicks on the light, _praying_ it's not as bad as it seems--

 

Holy shit.

 

It's not _bad._ It's a _disaster._ The bruise is purple and scattered around a large area of Louis' neck. The web of colors stand out boldly against his skin. Louis runs a probing finger over it. There's _no_ way he's hiding this, no matter how high of a collar he wears.

 

" _Jesus Christ!"_ Louis yells. "Harry, you're _so_ fucking _shameless!"_

 

Harry is laughing too hard to be of any comfort when a red-faced Louis returns to the seat. He's trying to be upset with Harry-- _after all, this is scandalous--_ but Harry's laughter rings in his ears and whatever Louis might've felt drowns in the lovely sound. Instead, he's mostly exasperated and maybe a bit amused at the ridiculousness of the situation.

 

"If you hadn't made such a nice breakfast," Louis mutters, biting his lip, "if you weren't so attractive, if you weren't _Harry,_ I would be mad at you. Really."

 

He scoops another forkful of eggs in his mouth and takes a sip of his coffee--

 

And Louis nearly gags.

 

It's so sickeningly sweet he has difficulty swallowing it. He makes a disgusted noise and pushes it as far away as possible, wiping his mouth.

 

Harry laughs even harder.

 

Louis should've known it was him.

 

"You're _never_ making my coffee again," Louis says firmly as he finishes his plate. "You're officially banned from touching my mug. That was the most _god_ thing I've _ever_ tasted."

 

" _C'mon_ ," Harry giggles. "You need to be a little less bitter, so I sweetened your coffee a bit."

 

"Me? Bitter? _Never."_

"You're a bitter, jaded twenty-four year old," Harry grabs the back of his bathroom as Louis attempts to walk back towards the bedroom to get dressed. Louis jerks backwards in surprise and blinks. He's a hair-width away from Harry now. "You're a bitter, jaded twenty-four year old, and _I love you_."

 

And then Harry kisses Louis, deep and full of feeling. Louis responds eagerly, pushing him back against the counter and reaching for the waistband of his boxers. Harry twists his hands into Louis' messy hair--

 

The coffee sits, forgotten on the countertop.

 

 

[*]

 

 

" _Louis!_ For the love of _God,_ why are you late?"

 

Niall is already waiting in his office by time Louis rushes in, breathless and pink-faced. He throws his coat over his chair, cursing at a hundred miles a minute. His phone falls from his pocket and he knocks over his coffee mug as he reaches for it, spilling hot liquid over his paperwork.

 

"For _fuck's sake!"_

Louis kicks his phone in irritation and picks up the sopping mess of papers. He'll have a hell of a time later deciding which of those were important, but for now he just chucks them all in the bin. Louis looks _very_ hassled and _very_ out-of-sorts and he throws himself into his chair, closing his eyes.

 

Niall stares at him in complete shock.

 

"Uh," he says into the silence, "are you... um... okay?"

 

Louis doesn't open his eyes.

 

'"Just give me a minute, Niall. And another cup of coffee, if you don't mind."

 

He hears Niall get up and grab the mug. The quietness is only broken by the hum of his computer as it starts up for the day and Louis' heavy breathing. By the time he hears Niall's footsteps approaching though, he's calmed down enough to the point where he can sit up and open his eyes.

 

Niall sets down the mug. He's still staring at Louis suspiciously.

 

"I've been waitingto talk to you about the CEO announcement," Niall says slowly, sitting back down. "But now I'm not so sure that's the most important topic at the moment. Why were you late? Why is your hair so messy? And-- _for Christ's sake--_ is that a _hickey?"_

Louis nearly spits out his coffee.

 

" _Shh!"_ he chokes, wiping his mouth. "Keep your voice down, Niall! If I wanted everyone to know, I would've brought my own megaphone and announced it to the whole fucking _firm!"_

 

"So it _is_ a hickey!" Niall ignores him and cranes forward to get a better view. "Holy _shit,_ Louis. That isn't from--"

 

His eyes grow wide and a look of triumph overcomes his features. His mouth drops opens.

 

"It's from _Harry!"_

There's a shuffling outside Louis' door. The people pause. The voices go silent.

" _Niall!"_ Louis hisses, throwing his hands in the air. "Do me a favor, yeah? _Stop talking."_

 

" _Whoops_ ," Niall drops his voice to a whisper and plows on, completely oblivious to the sounds (or lack of) outside Louis' door. "So _it is_ from him! You guys are on right terms again?"

 

" _Obviously,"_ Louis shakes his head in exasperation. "Listen. We'll talk about this later. _We're at work, remember?"_

The people outside lose interest. The voices grow more faint as they walk down the corridor.

 

"Right, right," Niall sits back, looking positively _thrilled._ "I can't wait to tell Liam. We've had a running bet on how long it would take you two to stop being _thick_ and admit you're mental for each other."

_"Niall,"_ Louis says pointedly. " _Work."_

"I _know_ , you absolute killjoy," Niall mutters, waving Louis away. "We're at work. So we talk about boring stuff."

 

"Precisely. What's the schedule for today?"

 

Niall is grumbling as he pulls out his planner. He chews on the end of his pen and flips through the pages, his eyes glued downwards.

 

"You've been given partial charge of the merger deal with _HC Stock Exchange_ ," Niall reads off. "Today you're just supposed to do some background research on their financial records and practice reading the stock exchange board until you've perfected it."

 

" _Hm,"_ Louis takes a sip of coffee. "Interesting. What are you doing?"

 

"Planning your banquet," Niall moans, closing his eyes. "That's going to be a real pain in the ass, Louis, and it's your fault. Being the next CEO means a lot of work for me."

 

"It also means a pay increase," Louis says causally. "If you quit whining, of course."

 

There's a pause.

 

" _Louis,"_ Niall gives a complaining moan. "Stop giving me money, you absolute _wrench._ Don't think I didn't figure out your clever move with the 'bonus' you gave me for the rent."

 

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

 

"You're exhausting," Niall shakes his head in annoyance. "It's a wonder Harry can put up with you."

 

"Niall," Louis says warningly.

 

"But speaking of Harry," Niall plows on, a sudden thoughtful look on his face. "Now since you're together and all... We could _triple_ date! Barbara and I with Liam and Zayn and you two! Wouldn't that be great?"

 

Louis stares at him.

 

"I would first kiss Grimshaw," Louis starts delicately, "before _ever_ taking you with me on a date. So the answer to that proposition is _absolutely fucking not."_

 

Niall looks offended. Louis sips his coffee unapologetically.

 

_And so the day begins._

-

 

Work flies by.

 

Between the extensive task Louis has been given, and news spreading like fire around the firm concerning his new status as future CEO, things are a _bit_ overwhelming. Louis is drowning in paperwork and congratulations and even some bitter words, but _whatever._ Louis knows there will be people to criticize. There always has been and there always will be.

 

Lunch is met with a nice surprise though--Liam and Zayn both come in to eat with Niall and Louis up in the executive suite. It was all organized in secret by a very proud Niall, and Louis is both thankful and exasperated to have his best friends with him again. They're very supportive about his news about becoming CEO, of course--but they're also exhaustingly persistent with the Harry situation.

 

Louis has his face buried in his hands as Niall tells Liam the other big news.

 

Liam practically _explodes_ in joy--he's clapping Louis on the back and high-fiving Niall (and also collecting his winnings from the bet) as a thousand questions come spilling from his mouth. Louis gives up trying to answer them and slumps wearily against his hand as Niall and Liam plow on.

 

Zayn gives him a small, sympathetic smile from across the table. Louis returns it weakly.

 

Lunch ends after forty-five more minutes and about forty-five thousand more questions. Everyone seems to be in decently high spirits, even though Louis is sheepish to admit it, and he's secretly glad Liam and Zayn came. Louis wouldn't ever admit it out loud, but their support--no matter how obnoxious it may be--means the absolute world to him.

 

The afternoon is just as good.

 

Louis gets loads of work done. Niall is scribbling furiously by his side as he sets up the banquet, his phone in hand and his laptop open and as Louis watches, he realizes how content he is. Louis is so _happy_ as he sits behind his desk, so _fulfilled,_ so _satisfied_ with everything--ranging from his job to his love life--and he can't remember a point when work felt so rewarding. It's the first time Louis is completely guilt-free about the CEO position and he can _actually_ enjoy the feeling. Louis works with a renewed passion and restored drive and all the while he can't help himself from getting excited because he knows the good feelings don't end when he steps out of the office.

 

 

_And of course, he isn't wrong._

 

After he clocks out for the day and makes his way to the parking garage, he sees _him_ dressed nicely and leaning against his all-black Range Rover. His legs are endless in black jeans and the blazer he's wearing hugs his shoulders nicely. His hair is blowing gently in the breeze and his eyes are fixed on Louis and nothing else.

 

Harry smiles softly as Louis approaches, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

 

"Hello, Louis," he says quietly, opening the passenger side door. " _Surprise."_

Louis is still open-mouthed as he gets into Harry's car, and even still when Harry joins him on the driver's side. Harry keys the ignition and leans over to kiss him briefly, chastely. Louis has enough of his senses to kiss him back, and then they're pulling out of the car park.

 

"Don't look so dumbstruck," Harry laughs as they speed away from the firm. "I'm not _flying_ you off somewhere. It's just a dinner at a nice place."

 

" _Harry,"_ Louis struggles to find words. "This is... You're too much, Harry."

 

"We haven't had a proper first date," Harry shrugs. His eyes are fixed on the road, but Louis can see how he's smiling. "I thought we'd... dunno... do it up all fancy and right."

 

Louis laughs in wonder and lets the sentiment of the thought sink in. He's never had anyone treat him like this, so tenderly and thoughtfully and wholeheartedly and Louis can't help but feel overwhelmed with the simple things in relationships like this that make it all so _exciting._

"Thank you, Harry," Louis sighs happily. "For everything, I mean. _Everything."_

"Sure thing," Harry smiles. "Anything for you, Louis."

-

 

The night sparkles _._

 

Chandeliers glitter, the wine shimmers, Harry's eyes glisten from behind his glass. The food is marvelous, the drinks even better, and the soft piano music drifting through the air is lovely. Louis and Harry drink too much wine and giggle over their food and touch each other's legs beneath the table. The conversation is as steady and free-flowing as the wine, and Louis can soon only think of Harry's red-stained lips and glistening eyes.

 

Louis knows he's drunk.

 

He's too focused on Harry's mouth, too fixated on his flushed cheeks and messy hair instead of his words. His attention is fleeting, the laughter comes too easily from his lips, and he can think of little else other than his own arousal pulsing lazily beneath the surface. It's a happy kind of drunk, a giggly type of drunk, a much different kind of drunk than Louis was two weeks ago.

 

Harry is intoxicated too.

 

His movements are sloppy and he drops his fork frequently. Harry laughs and tilts his head and his hair falls over his eyes and his words are haphazardly formed. Harry is also _touchy-feely--_ he reaches for Louis across the table, his eyes fixed on Louis like Louis is the only thing in the entire world.

 

It feels like a dream.

 

Everything is too perfect, too satisfying, too beautiful. Louis' face hurts from smiling. Harry's dimple seems cratered in his cheek permanently. The older couple next to them watch wistfully as the pair of them giggle like love-drunk teenagers, too caught up in each other to realize how silly they must look. Louis has always maintained a certain level of professionalism--it's a characteristic ingrained in him--but tonight, he's as careless and free as he was when he was seventeen.

 

The magic doesn't end at dinner.

 

By time Harry has paid the bill, they're stumbling out of the restaurant, hand-in-hand. Their laughter echoes in the empty London streets and the lamp posts illuminate the darkness around them. Harry buries his face in Louis' neck, his hot breath sending chills up Louis' spine and a familiar excitement flickering in his veins. The pair of them get into Harry's car and the mood shifts _just a bit_ from the giggly touchy-feeling atmosphere to the _kiss me hard and don't stop_ type of mood.

 

It's evident in the way Harry's breathing is ragged and shallow as he drives home unsteadily. His fingers twitch on the gear, he bites his lip in concentration, and his gaze flicks to Louis every once in a while. Louis feels the excitement, the lust, the wine pound through his veins. He knows Harry can sense it too. It's tangible in the air--the human _need,_ to drive for pleasure, the thrill of exploring each other with desperate gulps for air and fervent touches--

 

_They barely make it to Louis' flat._

Harry is pulling out his spare key with fumbling fingers and Louis pushes him into the wall and _kisses_ him, furious and unrestrained. Harry tastes like wine, like passion, like desperateness and fiery wanting and Louis swears he's going _mad_ with the longing coursing through his bloodstream.

 

"Here," Louis says breathlessly, digging for his own key. "Let me get it-- _fuck--"_

He struggles to get the key into the lock, but once he does, he opens the door impatiently and tugs Harry in. Harry is smiling idly. his lips obscenely red and ridiculously puffy, and Louis--Louis takes one look at him, and then he feels it spark through his veins again. The wanting, the longing, the burning _need_ , it's overwhelming and it consumes Louis' mind.

 

He pulls off Harry's blazer and starts with the buttons of his undershirt, his fingers shaking with the pulsing intensity of the moment and his own intoxication. Harry's chest rises and falls underneath his touch, his eyes fixed on Louis as Louis struggles with getting the ruffled shirt off him. Once it falls to his feet in a billowing white sheet, Louis starts with his trousers. Harry's breath catches.

 

"Louis," he says unsteadily, "what are you doing?"

 

The belt comes off easily. Louis is focused on the zipper of Harry's ridiculously tight jeans.

 

"Something that's long overdue," he says under his breath. "I owe you, remember?"

 

" _Oh,"_ Harry puts a tentative hand on the back of Louis' head. He closes his eyes. "Oh God, Louis."

 

"I haven't even started and you're already going on," Louis smiles wickedly as he pushes Harry onto the sofa, now completely bare except his boxers. "That's all right, kiddo. I like you when you're vocal."

 

Louis positions himself in the crook of Harry's legs and tugs at the waistband of the boxers. Harry wriggles until they're down, his cock laying against his stomach, looking pink and larger than Louis ever remembered. He inhales sharply and gives Harry one last, long look.

 

"You're all right?"

 

"Yeah," Harry's voice breaks at the end. " _Please."_

The desperateness in Harry's voice drives Louis to duck down and begin the task at hand--giving back to Harry. Harry is looking utterly gone already, his hands shaking and his eyes closed in tense apprehension.

 

Louis takes him into his mouth.

 

Harry jolts like he's just been shocked. His eyes fly open and he lets out a small gasp, raising his head a bit to look at Louis. Louis keeps his gaze locked on Harry as he takes as much of him as can down his throat, feeling his gag reflex cry in protest--but he holds him for one, two, three, four seconds--

 

" _Christ,"_ Louis mutters as he pulls back for air. "You're challenging my perfect blowjob record."

 

Harry lets out a little groan. Louis runs his hand up Harry's cock and thumbs the tip in concentration. Harry twitches, and another obscene noise escapes his mouth.

 

But Louis is _not_ deterred easily.

 

He goes back down on Harry and forces himself to relax, closing his eyes and shutting down the  part of his brain that cries in protest as he takes Harry in. This time he gets _all_ of him down, gagging desperately and holding onto Harry's hips to keep himself in place. It's a massive challenge to keep Harry down and he has to squeeze his eyes to stop the reflexive tears from leaking down his cheeks. Louis has an amazing amount of self-discipline, but even _this_ is pushing him to his limit.

 

" _Oh!"_ Harry moans feebly. He wraps his hands in Louis' hair. " _Yes,_ that's... _yes."_

His slight touch in combination with his breathy sighs refocuses Louis' attention. He's fully relaxed now, and a bit more accustomed to Harry's size, so the next time Louis takes Harry down, he deep throats him easily. He moves up and down his dick with confidence, his eyes fixed on Harry so he can watch him fall apart in front of him.

 

 _And fall apart Harry does_.

 

It only takes five more minutes of crescendoing friction until Harry is writhing underneath Louis, gripping his hair in anguish as the orgasm builds from inside. He cries out and bucks his hips involuntarily and Louis takes it _all_ without pulling back. His jaw feels cracked, his eyes are red and his head hurts from Harry pulling his hair so hard, but that's the thrill of it. Louis gets to watch Harry's moans turn to pleads and finally into dry sobs as the overwhelming pleasure envelops him--

 

Louis lets him go at the last second, and then Harry is coming onto his face.

 

He's whimpering helplessly as his back arches and his eyes fly open. The orgasm holds Harry in place for nearly a minute before he starts to come back down, his chest rising and falling erratically and his eyes fluttering.

 

Louis smiles and crawls over Harry until he's hovering over his face.

 

"You make the best sounds when you get off," Louis whispers. "I swear I'd give you a blowjob every day if I could hear you like that all the time."

 

Harry laughs weakly. He brings a hand up and wipes the come from Louis' cheek in wonder, like he's amazed he could do such a thing to Louis. Louis _must_ look rather obscene with Harry's come splattered across his face.

 

"Taste yourself," Louis pushes Harry's hand towards his mouth. Harry obliges and sucks the mess off his thumb, his eyes never leaving Louis. " _Christ._ You really are ridiculously filthy, Harry. Deceiving, you are."

 

Louis wipes underneath his eyes and cleans his finger of the come. He's never really been fond of the taste, but Harry is sweet enough to the point where Louis thinks maybe next time he'll take it _all_ down.

 

"You look good like this," Harry sighs, the tiredness heavy in his voice. He blinks lazily. "With my come on your face and my imprint on your neck and my cologne on your skin."

 

"I think the correct term for that is _mess_ ," Louis laughs hoarsely. His throat hurts. "Christ, I have work tomorrow, and I won't be able to talk."

 

"Now you know how I felt," Harry wraps his hands in Louis' hair and kisses his temple. There's a pause. " _I love you, Louis_."

 

The words send an electric shock down Louis' spine. Of course, he's heard it before, but with Harry, it means so much more. It means promise and commitment and longevity and Louis tries to reply, but the words get stuck in his throat.

 

Harry doesn't seem to mind. He just hums in contentment and holds Louis against him.

 

[*]

 

 

The next two weeks feel like a high.

 

Louis goes around in a haze, seeing the world in muted colors and distant sounds. He smiles too much, he's way too happy for no reason, and he feels intoxicated without even touching any alcohol. Waking up every morning is a blessing that leaves Louis in awe because he gets to wake up to the man he loves. Going to bed at night is a gift that fills Louis with a domestic sense of satisfaction because Harry's toothbrush sits next to his in the bathroom and his slippers wait next to Louis' for the dawning of the new day.

 

Niall notices the change in Louis right away, smirking as he asks quietly how many times Harry has gotten him off to make him so cheery. Louis elbows him and rolls his eyes and doesn't answer because the truth of the matter is that Louis has gotten more blowjobs in the last two weeks than Niall has in the last six months.

 

And he knows. _Louis knows._

Maybe his incurable good cheer is partly due to the scenes that happen behind closed doors when he gets home, but Louis knows it goes deeper than good blowjobs. His job is going wonderfully well--his father is terrifically proud of him and talks nonstop about the upcoming banquet--Harry is more than he could've ever asked for, and his friends shower him with support and humor. 

 

Louis is waiting for the high to crash, but it hasn't come yet.

 

His father hasn't found out about Harry. _No_ one in the office knows except Niall-- _not even Nick._ Admittedly, Louis is a bit nervous for the whole corporation to find out his secret, considering the banquet is in two days, but Niall assures him it's a good idea and Liam beams proudly. If nothing changes in the next two years, Louis and Harry will be the first openly gay CEOs in England's _history_ and Louis knows that'll be groundbreaking. Some people will view them as role models, social change advocates, twenty-first century leaders. Others will be blinded by homophobia and hate. It's daunting to say the least, but Louis knows he has to do this for Harry. _With_ Harry.

 

It's also a bit scary knowing how is father feels about his sexuality, but he's already made a binding contract. He can't pull out now without looking like a fool, and Louis _knows_ he wouldn't ever sacrifice his dignity, no matter how enraged the situation makes him. Louis has already been appointed as the succeeding CEO, and even if he estranges his father on Friday night, he's already promised what he's always wanted.

 

Still. Louis is having a hard time with it.

 

Harry comforts him with honey-dipped words and soft kisses. He tells Louis that his father doesn't deserve Louis' respect if he can't even respect his son's choices and and Louis _knows_ he's right, but Mark is still his family. Mark has done everything for Louis. Mark has _raised_ Louis.

 

It's harder than it seems.

 

He gets a bit down about it on Thursday night, so Harry invites Niall, Barbara, Zayn and Liam over for dinner after work. He's made a lovely dinner and cleaned the flat up nicely and kept it all a secret, so when Louis comes home after work, he's blown away by the scene that awaits him. His flat is _never_ perfectly tidy and _never_ full of pleasant chatter and he's laughing in wonder as all of them crowd him in a big hug when he walks through the door. Louis is looking at Harry over Niall's shoulder and Harry's eyes are so full of love and softness and Louis swears he doesn't deserve something as wonderful as him.

 

He's still looking at Harry when Niall claps him on the back.

 

"Eight weeks ago, Louis came telling me that he'd been assigned the job of getting rid of some upstart CEO's company and he was _terrified_ ," Niall shouts, holding his beer up. "Now he's dating the very same kid his father pitted him against _and_ he's the next CEO of Tomlinson Trading! Life is funny that way, I suppose. Cheers all the same!"

 

Everyone claps and raises their glass to the ceiling. Louis smiles sheepishly.

 

"Speech! Speech!" Liam cheers from the sofa. Zayn is sitting in the V of his legs, watching with a grin on his face. "C'mon Louis!"

 

Niall stomps his feet and Barbara clinks her bottle against Niall's. Harry bangs his spoon against the metal pot currently cooking the pasta sauce. Louis rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

 

"Don't be a _wanker!"_ Niall yells, shoving him. "Make a speech, _goddamnit!_ I didn't come all this way to watch you act modest!"

 

More loud cheers. They're _ridiculously_ noisy. Louis raises a hand to cut the commotion, and they all fall quiet right away. He sighs in exasperation.

 

"You all are an absurd lot," Louis starts wearily. "But I'm going to have to give a speech tomorrow anyway, so here goes..."

 

He pauses. Everyone is watching with a smile on their face, even Harry.

 

"All right. Tonight you're all here because Harry is much kinder than me and enjoys all of your presences. I don't get it, but that's exactly the point. Harry is the better half of this relationship," Louis says wryly. "That was a joke, by the way. About me not liking you guys here, because I really do. I was serious about the Harry bit--"

 

"We know," Niall says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Go on, mate.

 

"Right so," Louis gives him a look and returns to his improvised speech. "Harry has always been the sweetest person I've ever came across. Even though we met in an usual way, I'm truly more grateful for him than I am for any position in any company. He changed my life--he continues to change my life--and I owe everything I have now to him. I always thought that becoming CEO was the only thing I ever wanted, but he taught me that all I needed was someone to love, someone to call my own, someone to spend my life with, and I can proudly say that someone is Harry."

 

A round of aw's go around. Liam and Zayn are giving him proud looks, Niall is cheering, and Barbara is smiling softly. Harry has a hand over his mouth and his eyes glisten more than normal. Louis meets his gaze and realizes Harry is on the verge of crying. He gives Harry a small wink and mouths _it's okay_ before turning back to his friends.

 

"Being named the succeeding CEO is a massive honor, obviously," Louis continues. "I'm scared shitless, if I'm honest, and I'll probably get sick before the banquet tomorrow, but who cares now? There's good food and good people and alcohol and that's all I care about at the moment."

 

He raises his beer to the sky and everyone laughs, joining him in the toast. Niall roars something about Louis being the best lad he's ever met and Liam claps him on the back and Liam gives him a thumbs up but--

 

Louis' eyes are fixed on Harry, who's standing by himself in the kitchen. Harry is delighted, the pride written all over his face. His hair is failing in his face as he mouths something to Louis:

 

_I love you._

Louis holds his gaze a little longer, the smile spreading on his face. Only the beep of the stove and the Niall's cheers pull him back to reality, away from Harry, away from their moment, but that's okay. They have plenty of those. Plenty of time for that later.

 

Louis turns to Niall and snatches his beer out of his hand. Niall looks momentarily astonished.

 

"I don't know about you all," he yells, "but I do _not_ want to be sober tonight!"

 

He takes a long drink out of Niall's beer and hands it back with a grin as the flat echoes with cheers.

 

-

 

"Louis," Harry murmurs in his ear, ticking his neck with his hair, "I don't mean to be a downer, love, but you _do_ have a big day tomorrow. And maybe it isn't a great idea to be hungover, don't you think?"

 

They've finished dinner and drank _way_ more than they should've. Liam is kissing Zayn's collarbones with drunken giggles and Zayn is squirming out of reach, looking sheepish but halfway enjoying it. Niall is singing carols under his breath with his head on Barbara's chest and Louis has a suspicious feeling she's recording Niall because she's snickering to herself.

 

No one in the room is paying attention to Louis and Harry.

 

"Nonsense," Louis' mouth fits around the words messily. "I'm just happy. See? I'm happy."

 

He takes another pointed sip of beer and Harry sighs. He takes the bottle from Louis gently.

 

"No more, all right?" he says firmly. "I need you to be halfway sober for tonight."

 

'"Tonight?" Louis raises an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

 

Harry doesn't answer. He just kisses Louis' cheek and rests his head against Louis' shoulder. Louis slings an arm around him and pulls him closer and soon forgets the whole matter.

 

Everyone is sleepy and full with dinner and tired from the long day at work. Niall suggests a film and no one has a better idea, so Niall pops in _21 Jump Street._ He's seen it a thousand times with Louis, but he still laughs throughout the whole thing, loud and obnoxious and everyone is rolling their eyes at him before they're even halfway through the film.

 

By the end, Zayn has fallen asleep, Niall has single-handedly finished all the beer, Liam is playing with Zayn's hair, and Barbara has been on Pinterest for so long that Louis doubts she even knows what film they just watched. Harry keeps his fingers intertwined in Louis' and sighs happily every once in a while. Louis is comfortable and content and sleepy, but mostly just happy to have Harry by his side.

 

The film ending seems like a good cue for everyone to leave. They all start packing up--hugs are given all around--and Louis promises them they'll have a raging after party tomorrow when the banquet ends. Niall is all in for it, but Liam and Zayn both give him sheepish looks as they embrace. They promise to come to the banquet and Louis thanks them with lots of smiles.

 

Finally--after what seems like forty minutes--Louis has waved Niall out of the door. He shuts it and collapses against the wall, closing his eyes for a brief moment and enjoying the silence. Louis didn't really realize how long they'd been over--they came at two and it's nearly nine p.m.

 

"Wow," he murmurs, rolling his neck. "That was really nice, Harry. Really tiring, but really nice."

 

Harry laughs and hesitates shyly. He drops his gaze and licks his lips nervously.

 

"No problem," Harry pauses as his cheeks pink furiously. "We should--er--go to bed."

 

"Bed?" Louis raises an eyebrow. He gestures around the now-messy flat and load of dishes in the sink. "This isn't going to clean itself, you know. I was going to pick up because you made dinner and all."

 

"Yeah, of course, but," Harry pulls him away from the living room and towards the bedroom with a tiny bit of insistence. "That can wait for tomorrow. I have something else for you."

 

Louis is a bit bewildered--usually Harry is the one on his tail for not picking up--but he follows Harry anyway. Harry is breathing unevenly and he stumbles a bit through the dark hallways, then he pauses outside of the bedroom door.

 

"Louis," he takes a deep breath. "It's been nearly three months. I'm usually reserved when it comes to sex, but I always trusted my instinct to know who I would give myself to. And you're the lucky winner."

 

Harry laughs shyly and Louis stares at him open-mouthed. Whatever drunken haze he was in thirty seconds ago disperses immediately, leaving him sober and stunned.

 

Louis doesn't move.

 

He can't believe what Harry's saying. _Three months?_ It didn't even feel that long. And sex? Louis honestly hadn't really pressed the subject because he knew Harry was a virgin, and he wasn't in any rush to force Harry into something he wasn't ready for. Of course he'd _thought_ about it every once in a while because he's _human,_ but it was never the underlying motivation with Harry. Which is strange, now that Louis thinks about it, because every other fling he ever had was purely about sex.

 

And now Harry is finally addressing the topic and Louis is dumbfounded.

 

"You mean... like _now?"_ Louis says blankly, searching Harry's eyes. "You want to er--have sex _tonight?"_

"That was the idea, yeah," Harry's voice is low and quiet. "I've wanted to for a while, if I'm honest. But I was scared. And kind of nervous. I still am, but I know I'm ready to give this part of myself to you."

 

" _Harry,"_ Louis laughs in shock, shaking his head. "You can't... _er_.... jump into this kind of thing without preparation. We probably should've discussed this earlier, because we both should be on the same page as far as preferences--"

 

"Again, I'm not a _monk,"_ Harry replies sheepishly. He shifts on his feet a little bit. "Just because I've never had sex doesn't mean I don't understand how to prepare for it. I've been ready for a while."

 

"So then--?"

 

" _You're_ going to take my virginity," Harry shrugs. "It's not too different from the normal preconception about first times."

 

 _Oh._ It makes sense to Louis. He always kind of knew Harry wouldn't be the type to top, which is convenient because Louis isn't fond of bottoming. _Still._ It's absurd to even think they're having this conversation right now. Exciting, yes, but _absurd._

"And you want this tonight?" Louis asks slowly.

 

"Yeah."

 

Louis searches Harry's glimmering green eyes for any trace of apprehension, but there isn't any there. Harry looks nervous, of course, but he's clearly firm in his wish. Louis is already feeling the idea settle beneath him, and it makes him feel a little dizzy.

 

" _Christ_ , Harry," Louis laughs weakly, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't picture it going this way when I thought about your first time, but... _if you're sure_... then I'm am too."

 

Harry smiles and closes his eyes briefly. He takes one deep breath and steps closer to Louis and it feels like slow motion, like his movements are stuck in molasses. Louis swears he can hear Harry's heart thudding as he kisses him, slowly, questioningly at first. When Harry responds with assertiveness, Louis steps into the kiss and pushes Harry through the door to the bedroom.

 

It's dark inside and Harry is terribly nervous--he trips and apologies several times. Louis has to force him to swallow his anxious words with kisses and firm squeezes of his hand. Harry eventually gets the message and he stops apologizing for every mistake he makes, but it doesn't lesson the anxiousness in Harry's behavior.

 

"Harry," Louis murmurs breathlessly, the moonlight streaking through the window and illuminating a thin ribbon of the room, "you don't have to be so tense, all right? I promise you that it isn't going to be perfect the first time, so you don't have to worry about messing up. Just calm down and let me walk you through this."

 

"Okay," Harry's hand trembles as he pulls off Louis' shirt. He tugs down Louis' sweatpants and boxers, his eyes fixed on his exposed groin area. "Do you want me to help you--?"

 

"No, no, I'm fine," Louis whispers into the darkness as he searches for a condom in his bedside drawer. Once he finds one, he rips it open with his teeth and gives a few measured runs down his dick to get himself fully hard. Louis is aware that Harry is watching him as he rolls on the condom. "There should be some lube in my sock drawer if you want to grab it though."

 

Harry shakes his head shyly and pulls out his own bottle from his bag. He's shivering in the moonlight in just his boxers and looking ridiculously young with the lube in his hand and his face pink with embarrassment.

 

" _Oh,"_ Louis laughs quietly. "All right, so you _do_ know what you're doing. Have you ever used lube?"

 

Another shy nod.

 

Louis takes the bottle gently from his hand and kisses him with ease, letting Harry dictate when to push it farther. It only takes about thirty seconds before Harry is nibbling at his bottom lip, wanting more, wanting Louis to kiss him harder, more urgently. Louis obliges and guides Harry around to the bed as he does.

 

He pulls back breathlessly and Harry lays down without a word. He's trembling in the moonlight--Louis can see how his hands shake--but he looks excited. Nervous, _god yes,_ but excited.

 

Louis finds it ridiculously hot.

 

He crawls between the V of Harry's legs and tugs down the waistband of his boxers. Harry helps the process until he's laying there, bare and shivering, with his eyes fixed on Louis and his body open to him.

 

Louis takes a shuddering breath.

 

All of a sudden, he feels a wave of responsibility wash over him. He has to guide Harry through this, make it _right,_ make him feel good. Good sex takes good understanding of each other, and Louis can confidently say he's got a decent grasp on Harry, but not this part of him. He has no idea what position Harry would like or where his prostate is or even how to approach the whole situation. Louis knows his fair share about sex through his own experience, but he's never had to explain to the other person how to take it their first time. He's never had the responsibility of someone's virginity either. It's a lot to take in at once, especially when Harry looks so vulnerable underneath him.

 

He doesn't know where to start, so he kisses Harry again, reassuring. Harry responds, but it's impatient and Louis clearly gets the message.

 

He withdrawals.

 

"All right," Louis whispers, brushing a lock of hair off Harry's forehead. "We have to get you ready--"

 

"Already did," Harry murmurs, his eyes locked on Louis. "While you were saying goodbye to the group tonight."

 

"Well," Louis laughs shakily. He _was_ wondering where Harry had disappeared to. "You certainly know what you're doing. Still, I'm warning you, it's a little uncomfortable the first time. Especially where you're at."

 

"Not worried about it," Harry gives a weak smile and closes his eyes. "I want you now, Louis."

 

Louis exhales sharply and nods. He fumbles for the lube bottle and applies a generous amount to the condom, and then lowers himself down towards Harry. They're both holding their breath as Louis moves his hips forward.

 

Harry has his eyes closed and Louis kisses his neck as he slowly goes in. It's unhurried and he's as gentle as possible and Louis finds himself silently grateful that Harry did such a good job in prepping. Louis takes a full two minutes of painstaking progress before he's all the way inside Harry.

 

The room is silent besides Harry's soft whimpers and Louis' ragged breathing. Harry's face is white, his eyes are squeezed shut, and his lips are pressed together as he gets accustomed to the sensation. He doesn't tell Louis to stop, which is a good sign, but he's clearly in a bit of pain.

 

Louis, on the other hand, feels dizzy with the pleasure of being this physically close to Harry. He feels Harry tight around his dick and it's a positively glorious sensation. Even through the condom, Louis is overwhelmed with the feeling, and he lets out a small, soft curse.

 

" _Christ_ , Harry," he whispers shakily, pressing his forehead to Harry's. "You're doing good. Is it okay if I move?"

 

Harry opens his eyes blearily and nods. He looks so unfocused, so hazy, so _gone_ and Louis hasn't even started yet. It makes Louis' breath catch in silent wonder. Harry is giving all of himself to Louis. This is the first time anyone's ever gotten Harry like this. It makes Louis feel extraordinary to know _he's_ the one who gets to do this for Harry.

 

He leans down and kisses his neck as he pulls back out slowly and pushes again. Harry writhes and a cry escapes his mouth. His fists are balled at his sided and his eyes are pressed tightly again. Louis moves his lips upwards and kisses Harry's cries away as he thrusts again, this time a little faster and a little more purposely.

 

It takes fifteen minutes of work to get Harry relaxed enough to open his eyes. They're red and tears glitter in the moonlight, but his fingers dig into Louis' back as he keeps him in place. His lips are puffy and pink and his neck is a mess of lovebites and he's quivering under Louis--but he doesn't cry out in pain anymore. His eyes are fixed on Louis' face steadily, watching how Louis moans in the pure bliss of it, watching as Louis' hair falls over his forehead as he concentrates on moving inside of Harry, watching his biceps strain in the moonlight as he holds himself over Harry's body. His breaths are heavy and uneven now, his words becoming less coherent and Harry watches in fascination when--

 

Louis hits something, and a rush of pleasure so blinding, so _different_ than anything he's ever felt before rushes through his system. He gasps and arches his back, pulling Louis back into him involuntarily, desperately seeking the sensation again.

 

'" _Louis,"_ he whispers jaggedly, digging his nails into Louis' back. "Do that again, please _god._ It felt so good."

 

"That's your prostate," Louis is breathless and struggling to string together a coherent sentence.  "Tell me if I hit it again."

 

Louis angles his hips upwards and gives a quick thrust in his general guess of the area, but it does the trick. Harry lets out an explosive cry and twists in pleasure, closing his eyes as the sensation washes over him again. It's an utterly destroyed, feral sound and it's absolutely _beautiful._

 

The minutes stretch on, and now that Louis has found his prostate, the mood in the room is much different. Harry is whimpering in pleasure, crying out Louis' name and digging his nails down Louis' back. Louis is breathless and sweating with the effort of holding his body up and moving his hips at the right speed and right angle to stroke Harry's spot with each thrust. The rhythm he's built up to is dizzyingly fast, probably too fast for Harry's first time, but Harry is writhing beneath him and begging Louis not to stop and Louis is reaching his edge anyway. He's so blinded by the building orgasm inside his stomach that he doesn't think he could control himself enough to slow down.

 

Louis grips Harry's hair and tilts his neck back with some force. He kisses the skin there furiously, sucking a bright red mark from his Adam's apple to the base of his collarbones. Harry cries out his name in euphoria and it takes Louis a few minutes to realize Harry's spike in arousal is due to the fact that he's unconsciously causing friction with Harry's dick each time he thrusts. By time he pulls away to figure it out, Harry's eyes have glassed over and his lips part like he's having an out-of-body experience and five words escape his mouth, so weak, so absolutely _destroyed_  that Louis feels his own orgasm reach the peak.

 

'' _I'm going to come, Louis."_

And _Christ,_ Harry does come, and he comes _hard._

A silent scream escapes his lips as his back arches off the ground. He writhes in the air, his body twisted in ridiculous angles as the ecstasy washes over his pale face and his eyes fly open. He comes in thick white lines that coat his chest, even the base of his collarbones. Louis pauses in his motions and watches in wonder as Harry comes apart.

 

After twenty seconds of the most intense orgasm Louis has ever seen, Harry's body goes limp and a dry sob escapes his lips. He closes his eyes and lets his head droop to the side in utter exhaustion as his breathing goes from nonexistent to ragged and uneven.

 

Louis is _so close--_ he's aware he should pull out after Harry's hit his high, but Louis knows he'll he over within a matter of seconds. It just takes the sight of Harry's come-splattered chest, bleary eyes, and the fucked-out expression on his face before he's hitting the most powerful orgasm he's ever had, coming so hard black dots flash in front of his eyes and his heart physically stops.

 

He moans in agony and his arms go weak. Louis falls against Harry's chest and doesn't even care he's gluing his body to Harry's with his come.

 

The room is silent.

 

Louis and Harry don't move. Their chests rise and fall together, but they're both riding a high not quite in this world. They're only distantly aware of each other for a while.

 

Still, Louis eventually comes back down from the clouds and the first thing his short-circuited brain can think of is the fact Harry is no longer a virgin. The next thing that comes to mind is the fact that _he's_ the one that took it away from Harry. _Louis just had sex with him._ It feels as surreal and faraway as the orgasm that's quickly dissipating. The reality of the moment is setting back in. Louis has to do _something_ after an event as momentous as first-time sex, but nothing fitting comes to mind.

 

Instead, brushes a lock of hair out of Harry's eyes and kisses his forehead gently.

 

"I don't even know what to say," Louis murmurs against his warm skin. "I should, but I don't."

 

"You don't have to say a thing," Harry says tiredly. "This is nice for now."

 

There's a pause, and then Louis asks a ridiculous question.

 

"Do you feel different?"

 

Harry laughs so quietly it's almost imperceptible and shrugs, his eyes fixed on Louis.

 

"Not really. Maybe a little more tired than I was before. Maybe a little more tender. I feel good, yeah, but I don't really think it's different."

 

Another pause.

 

"Did it hurt?" Louis' voice is gentle and probing. He strokes Harry's face.

 

"A little bit," Harry says distantly. "At first, definitely.  But towards the end, I thought I was going to black out from the pleasure."

 

Louis smiles and kisses his temple. There's a long period of silence where neither of them say anything. There will be time to look back and mull it over, but it's too fresh, too potent, too overwhelming to take in right now. They're both exhausted and their bodies refused to move and Louis feels himself beginning to drift off except--

 

The silence is suddenly broken by Harry's jagged, uneven voice.

 

"I love you."

 

Louis doesn't even hesitate (or think) as the words fall easily from his mouth. They don't get caught in this throat, they don't stick to his tongue, they don't fizzle out on his lips. Louis says the three words he's never said to anyone ever before and he doesn't even realize it until they're already out.

 

"I love you too, Harry."

 

Harry's eyes grow in wonder. It's the first time Louis has said it to him face-to-face, completely honest and open and Louis _should_ feel like he's taken a big step--but mostly he's realizing how long overdue it was.

 

He loves Harry.

 

_(And now Harry knows it too.)_

 

[*]

 

If Louis had to name the top ten most stressful days of his life, the day of the banquet ranks in the first three.

 

He's up at seven in the morning and coated in come and feeling filthy, but also immensely satisfied. Louis is good about controlling his sex drive, but after a ridiculously long dry spell and the best sex he's ever had still clogging his brain, it's easy to wonder why Louis feels love-drunk.

 

Except the good feelings don't last.

 

Niall and Mark are blowing up his phone. Louis has barely been up thirty seconds before he's getting a call from Niall and he's cursing furiously as he rushes to silence the phone. Harry stirs next to him, but doesn't wake.

 

Louis is irritated when he finally takes the call outside the bedroom.

 

Niall is about to have a stroke. He's talking a million miles a minute, his voice breaking after ever other sentence and his frazzled thoughts popping in during random times. Louis has no idea what he's saying and eventually is forced to end the call with a ' _relax Niall'_ when Mark rings in.

 

And Mark tells him everything he doesn't want to hear.

 

Louis has a packed day he wasn't aware of because Niall was too busy getting drunk last night to inform him on the plan. Louis has to be at the J. K. London Banquet Hall by ten for interviews, a luncheon with the executive board and a few other prominent members of the company's affairs, and then a dry run of the whole ceremony. Louis was supposed to have a speech written out (again, he didn't know this) and he was supposed to have gotten a suit for the occasion. Mark tells him that the guests will be arriving at four and clicks the end button on the call without another word.

 

Louis lets out an explosive curse.

 

He scribbles out a note explaining the situation to Harry and takes a quick shower. He's dressed in a jumper and sweatpants within forty-five minutes, and by time the clock strikes eight in the morning, Louis has his coffee in hand as he turns on his car, the address for a privately-owned suit boutique pulled up on his phone. He doesn't have time to order a tailored suit, so a Louis guesses this is going to have to work.

 

And _thank god_ it does.

 

Louis spends another hour searching for a right suit, but he eventually settles on an all-black number with a burgundy pocket square. It's no Armani suit, but it's of a nice quality and handsome enough for the event. Louis thanks the owner, tips him generously, and then asks if he can change in the back room.

 

It's an odd request and definitely not socially acceptable, _but._ Louis has twenty minutes to get to the J.K. Banquet Hall, so irrelevant protocol isn't exactly top of his mind.

 

Still. The man gives Louis a strange look, but nods anyway.

 

_(He better, considering the tip Louis gave him.)_

The next twenty minutes are a whirlwind of frenzied activity, but _somehow_ Louis manages to make it on time _and_ unscathed. He runs a hand down his freshly shaved face and exhales thankfully before he puts his keys in his pocket and walks in.

 

The banquet hall is grand.

 

It's a flurry of action. There must be fifty people in the extensive hall, moving chairs, serving places, making seating charts, adjusting the lighting, fixing the microphone, ect. Louis has no idea where his father is.

 

Luckily, Mark finds him first.

 

Louis doesn't even hear his father creep behind him until he's clapping Louis so hard on the shoulder that Louis' knees buckle. He lets out an explosive curse and turns on heel, his chest heaving.

 

" _Christ, Mark,"_ Louis rubs his temples. "A little bit more warning next time, yeah?I don't fancy having a stroke before the banquet tonight."

 

"You have a mouth like an uneducated lay man," Mark sighs in exasperation. "I tried so hard to break you of your cursing habit. I see I still haven't succeed."

 

Louis pauses. He shrugs unapologetically.

 

"I get it from mum's side."

 

The moment is so bizarre and so unforced that the pair of them share a good laugh together. It isn't staged or prewritten or related to business--it's just a father and a son, joking around like any other father and son would. For a moment, Louis feels a pang of nostalgia knowing he used to be so much closer to Mark before the company happened. Jokes were commonplace. Mark played football with Louis all the time and never missed one of his games. He took Louis and his sisters out for ice cream whenever they got perfect marks on tests. That seems like so long ago, so distant, and Louis finds himself kind of missing it.

 

The laughter dies eventually and the moment loses its power.

 

"Well, come through here to meet the members of the luncheon," Mark clears his throat uncomfortably and starts walking towards a side door. "And could you _please_ fix your hair? You look like you haven't ran a comb through it."

 

Louis' ears burn red because he most _definitely_ didn't comb his hair this morning. He gives a half-hearted attempt at flattening it, but the effort really is futile.

 

Oh _well._

The next hour and a half of Louis' day is unbearable and way more uptight than he ever could handle. Everyone at the large table has fake smilies on their face as they pretend to act interested in what he's saying when a question is brought up. Instead of listening to his answers, they're staring at his hair or wondering what brand his suit is or looking at the blemish (crudely hidden with Lottie's old foundation) on his neck. It frustrates Louis to the point where he only answers in two-word sentences. _That_ kills the conversation quickly, and the board moves off the topic of Louis to other business-related news, which generally has a side effect of making Louis snore. 

 

Still. They aren't talking to him, so Louis has an easy time drifting off.

 

He stops listening and begins mentally drafting his speech for tonight. Louis has no idea where to start, no idea what to say, and definitely no idea on how he's going to address the crowd of _five hundred_. Louis doesn't get stage fright, per say, but this situation is different. Louis has no plan and high expectations on his shoulders and he feels like those two aren't a good mix. If he makes a fool out of himself, he'll surely never hear the end of it from Mark.

 

 _Harry is the one who's good at this stuff_ , Louis thinks to himself moodily. Harry could whip out a speech so heartfelt and deep that there would scarcely be a dry eye in the room. Louis sighs and sips his tea and tries to think what Harry would tell him if he was here.

 

 _Talk about something you're comfortable with or feel strongly about._ Yes, Harry would definitely say that. He'd want Louis to be animated and lively and passionate. Which is the best route Louis can think of in the moment, because there is some validity to there--if he's an active speaker, people will only halfway listen to his words.

 

Be vibrant and talk about something he loves. Yes, Louis has an idea. Risky? _Of course._ But an idea all the same.

 

Louis smiles and sips his tea.

 

-

 

After the luncheon ends, Louis is ushered into a different room set up with bright lighting and about six cameras.

 

The makeup artist drags him to the side and fixes whatever blemishes she finds-- _including the one on his neck; she doesn't ask about it though--_ and another girl fixes his hair. Louis feels like he's getting poked and prodding and tugged _way_ too much for his liking, but it's all over in less than fifteen minutes.

 

His father is standing on the outskirts of the room, a proud smile on his face. Louis catches his gaze nervously. He gives Louis an encouraging nod as Louis sits down in his seat.

 

The eyes of the cameras glare angrily at him. Louis can see the red lights flashing on standby as the crew rushes to get everything set up. The interviewer is talking with Mark and the producer in low undertones, so no one is really watching him. Louis squirms uncomfortably under the bright lights. He wishes Harry were here to ease his anxiousness. It would be much easier to look off behind the cameras and see his dimpled smile and feel relaxed, but instead all Louis sees is a middle-aged camera man looking entirely too bored with the whole situation.

 

_"We're on air in two minutes!"_

Louis' mouth goes dry. The room is electric with the sounds of a frenzied crew rushing to get everything set up. It's noisy and hot and Louis tugs at his collar uncertainly, _really_ wishing they'd turn down the brightness of the lights.

 

The interviewer finally walks onto the set, smiling kindly at Louis. She's about forty and dressed modestly, her brown eyes glittering as she extends a perfectly-manicured hand towards Louis.

 

"Lovely to meet you," she says warmly. "My name is Janet Stevens, and I'm doing the piece on your story today. You're a very fascinating young man, Louis, and I'm proud to have the honor."

 

"Thank you," Louis laughs nervously. He hopes she can't feel how clammy his hands are. "Although I'm not too sure about the _fascinating_ part, but flattering all the same."

 

She gives him a wink and Louis decides he likes her.

 

" _We're on!"_ someone yells from darkness. The room falls silent and the light on the cameras turns green. Louis feels his heart thud against his chest. He meets Mark's gaze again and swallows thickly.

 

Janet's face transforms within an instant. She looks serious, professional, and focused as she stares right into the lens of the camera labeled _one_.

 

"Good evening," she says steadily. "Today I'm joined with Louis Tomlinson, newly named the succeeding CEO of England's largest trading company, _Tomlinson Trading._ In preparation of the ceremony in a few hours, Louis has agreed to sit down and answer a few questions. How are you feeling?"

 

"Indescribable, really," Louis answers. He's surprised to hear the confidence in his voice. "It's a massive honor to be given such a position at my age. Of course I'm thrilled and extremely grateful, but I'm also humbled by the support people have shown in leu of the announcement."

 

"The word going around is that this is the era of young success stories," Janet continues with a smile. "Between the recent astounding accomplishments of fellow business tycoon Harry Styles and your own achievements, would you agree with that statement? Are we seeing the transformation of the business world from one predominately run by middle-aged men?"

 

"Oh, yes, I definitely agree with that," Louis laughs easily. "That's the beauty about our times, though. A nineteen year old can run England's most influential stock exchange company when just twenty years ago, he would've been laughed at. It shows that age isn't everything when it comes to success--it just takes drive and a thirst to prove yourself. I hope the trend continues along all social and ethnic groups as well-- it would be great to see more women, minorities, gays and transgender people in positions of power. It's the era of change, and I'm excited to see where it goes."

 

Mark is nodding in the background. He looks pleased. Louis feels himself practically slump in relief. _Good._ That could've been risky.

 

"Well said, Louis," Janet looks impressed. "Still, despite your maturity, you're just twenty-four years old and you've got a massive amount of pressure on your back. Does that ever get overwhelming?"

 

Louis hesitates.

 

"I know I should say _no,_ but that isn't the truth," he says with a small shrug. "It's a lot to handle, no matter what age. I do feel like I've bitten off too much to chew sometimes, but everyone does. I chose this job and I knew what I was getting myself into, so I just deal with it, I suppose. At the end of the day, I've got good friends and a good family and that makes the hard times a lot easier."

 

There's a pause. Janet smiles and lets his words ring before diving into the next question.

 

"Your personal life has really been shielded from the public eye," Janet continues, her eyes fixed on Louis. "Which is understandable--privacy is important. But all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, and I can't imagine it being any different for you. What do you do outside the office?"

 

'"Now, now," Louis laughs lightly. "We'll not get too detailed there. I like to go out and have a drink with my mates every once in a while. Films are a nice way to end a long day. I quite like watching football too, so I'll go to a few games when I can spare the time. Nothing especially interesting--I really am pretty average. I still get emotional during sappy television shows and I'll never turn down a Disney marathon with my sisters."

 

"Clearly a family man," Janet smiles. "It's always nice to see people like you so grounded. But I'm sure you're at the age where you're looking to settle down and start a family of your own. Have you found someone yet? Is marriage in your future? Children?"

 

"Well, _that_ got serious fast _,"_ Louis laughs again, this time a little off-balance. "Marriage is a lot to consider at twenty-four, especially during this time in my life. I don't think I'll be going that far for a while, and kids are in the _way_ distant future. Still, I would like to have both."

 

"Clever avoidance of the question," Janet wags a finger at him. "You still haven't told us if you've found someone to start thinking about the future with."

 

Louis pauses. He blinks once, twice, a third time. He glances towards his father. He thinks of Harry.

 

"Yeah," Louis breathes, and then he lets a small smile spread across his face. "Yeah, I've found someone. He's really great and always supportive. He's coming tonight, in fact."

 

The effect is instantaneous. Louis sees the way the people behind the scenes all shoot each other furtive looks. The makeup artist cranes her neck to get a better view. Mark nearly drops his coffee.

 

Jane looks unperturbed. She plays off her surprise easily.

 

"Can you give us a name?" she asks playfully. "A hint, maybe?"

 

"You'll see tonight," Louis laughs, and she gives a dramatic resigned sigh.

 

"All right, I think that's a good place to end," Janet turns back to the camera labeled _one_. "Thank you, Louis, for your time. All the best luck tonight."

 

"No, thank _you_ ," Louis reaches forward and shakes her hand. "It's been a pleasure."

 

Janet smiles and squeezes his hand briefly. The lights dim and the cameras go from green to red and the whole room explodes into a flurry of action once again.

 

Louis takes a deep breath. He feels dizzy. His heart is racing and his ears ring in an odd way.

 

"Hey," Janet taps him on the shoulder as she gets up. "That was really brave of you, Louis. No matter what anyone says, it takes a lot of courage to do what you just did. Your boy is a lucky one, whoever he is."

 

Janet smiles and disappears into the crowd before Louis can think fast enough to reply.

 

He stays in his chair for a few more seconds and composes himself. Louis' legs quiver. He thinks maybe he hears someone calling his name, and then he realizes it's a crew hand, nervously telling him that he's got to go to the banquet hall for the dry run of the ceremony. Louis nods distantly and stands up.

 

His father is staring at him.

 

He looks a lot less happy than he did five minutes ago. Louis meets his gaze and his stomach swoops uncomfortably. Mark's face is stony and cold, his eyes filled with an icy rage. His arms are folded across his chest and his lips are pressed together tightly.

 

"With me, Louis," he says quietly. His voice is dangerously calm. " _Now."_

Louis swallows and sticks his hands in his pockets. Dozens of eyes are on him as he follows Mark out of the room. He keeps his head down and reminds himself he did the right thing. He tells himself he knew this was going to happen sometime. He tells himself that Harry means more than whatever his father has to say. He closes his eyes and breathes unsteadily.

 

Mark closes the door of the lobby behind him. It's hauntingly quiet in here.

 

Mark's eyes are filled with dislike, and Louis knows he's made the deadly mistake of getting his father on his wrong side. Mark doesn't forgive. Mark doesn't forget. And Mark is not merciful, his own son or not.

 

"You are a _fool,_ Louis," his father spits. "You disgraced yourself on television just now. Hours before the biggest night of your life, and you've already made a fatal blunder. Did you think you were helping yourself by admitting to your distorted sexuality _in front of the world?_ Do you think that will earn you respect when you're sitting in a room full of executives in two years and the only thing they can think of is the fact you're gay? Tell me, Louis, are you really that _stupid?"_

"I'm sorry you're too close-minded to realize how ignorant you are," Louis says furiously. "Not the whole world is as homophobic as you, Mark! And here's a news flash: _I am my own person._ I'm never going to be like any of the other CEOs, especially you! I've never been stereotypical, but I've always made it and I always will! If you think for a _moment_ that I'm going to sacrifice who I am for your agenda, then you're _terribly_ mistaken. I've done it for twenty-four years and that's _over,_ Mark!"

 

Louis' chest is heaving. He glares at his father with a fiery anger that would make any other person squirm with its intensity, but Mark isn't any other person. Mark has a temper that matches Louis' own.

 

"I've given you _everything,_ " Mark says through gritted teeth, stepping closer to Louis. They're barely an inch apart. "I _made_ you, Louis. Without me, you'd be nothing. Without me, you wouldn't be here right now. Do you know how many people tried to convince me that you were the wrong choice for the CEO position? _Countless,_ Louis. At one point, I was the only one who believed in you. I ignored them and sacrificed _everything_ to get the appointment finalized. Now I realize how foolish I was to ever risk anything on you. You're _worthless,_ Louis, and _you're going to fail."_

The words hurt. Louis recoils.

 

"You're a bitter, self-absorbed old man," he says quietly, his voice shaking. "At the end of the day, the company is all you have. Mum doesn't love you. She hasn't for years. She stays with you because of the girls, but she can't stand your obsession with your job. Lottie doesn't even know who you are. Do you think Phoebe and Daisy will look back on their best childhood memories and see you? _No._ You're _alone,_ Mark. I was the last person you had. And now what are you going to come home to? An empty bed in a house too big for one man. Tell me, do your achievements keep you warm at night? Does your bank account fill you with joy? Is it the same to see your name on a shiny plaque as it is to hear mum's laugh? Tell me Mark, how does it feel to have _nobody?"_

His father's hand comes out of nowhere.

 

He hits Louis across the face with so much force Louis staggers backwards. Louis loses his footing and falls against an armchair, his head spinning and stars dancing in front of his eyes. His cheek stings like a thousand needs just pierced his skin, and Louis tastes blood in his mouth.

 

Mark is breathing heavily as he stares at Louis, who's clutching his face and cursing quietly. He makes no move to help him or apologize. His fists are balled at his side and he looks so _weak,_ so tired. Mark is not infallible. Mark is not the larger-than-life man Louis always knew. Mark is a coward.

 

Louis gets to his feet unsteadily and his eyes fall on the man who used to be his father. The anger is gone from Mark's eyes, instead replaced by a cold hatred. Louis makes a disgusted sound in the back of his throat and shakes his head. Mark doesn't get it. _He never will_.

 

"You're a fool, Louis," Mark says coldly. "You are no son of mine."

 

Louis says nothing. He pushes past Mark and leaves him in the lobby, alone with just the silence to keep him comfort.

 

Mark makes no move to follow him.

 

-

 

By four in the afternoon, a quiet anticipation is buzzing in the atmosphere.

 

The banquet hall is ready. Tables glitter with silverware and glasses. The chandeliers twinkle brightly. The podium in the center of the room has Louis' hastily written speech on it. The stage in the front of the hall has a long table on its surface, set for all the executives of the company, plus Louis and Mark. His spot is directly in the center.

 

Photographers are setting up. Journalists talk to the PR manager in undertones. A few of the company's most important benefactors are already at their tables, chatting cordially to one another. The rest of the guests are lined up outside, slowly trickling into the hall, their excited voices floating from the lobby.

 

Louis is in the bathroom.

 

He needs time to cool down before the main event of the night. His face still tingles, but that pain is nothing compared to the words that came out of Mark's mouth. They stung Louis to the core in a way Mark could never do with his fist. It happened two hours ago, but Louis has been too busy and too shocked to really think about it between the dry run of the banquet and finalizing details. Now he has a moment to breathe and he can't decide how he feels yet. Angry and bitterly sad, he thinks. Kind of relieved. But mostly upset. He halfway wants to cry and he halfway wants to scream.

 

But he does neither. He stares ahead at the bathroom wall until the click of the door startles him.

 

Louis looks up.

 

Niall is standing there, looking handsome in a high-quality suit. He's grinning widely until he sees Louis' face. The smile disappears right away, replaced with a look of concern.

 

"Louis?" he asks uncertainly. "Are you alright, mate?"

 

"No," Louis mutters. He runs a hand down his face. "Not really."

 

Niall crouches in front of him and peers at him steadily.

 

"Talk to me," he says urgently. He puts a hand on Louis' shoulder.

 

Louis turns away from his gaze.

 

"Mark and I had a row," Louis says blandly. "I outed myself in the interview earlier, and he wasn't pleased to say the least."

 

Niall's face changes. He tilts Louis' chin to the side before Louis can squirm out of his way, and his breath catches as he sees Louis' cheek.

 

"Jesus _Christ._ Did he do that?"

 

"It's nothing, Niall," Louis says shortly, pushing him away. "I'm fine. I'll be out in a minute, all right? Just give me space."

 

Niall hesitates, and then gets up after a moment. He squeezes Louis' shoulder, and Louis listens to his footsteps grow more quiet, and then he hears the door click.

 

Louis puts his face between his hands.

 

He's got to get himself sorted. Louis has a big task tonight, and he can't be off-form. This _does_ mean a lot for his future and definitely sets the tone for the coming two years and Louis _knows_ that--he's been mentally preparing for a week now. He can't fail. He _won't_ fail. Louis has made it this far, despite the odds, and tonight is the final task. He won't fall as he crosses the finish line.

 

Louis pushes himself to stand up and go to the sink.

 

He turns on the faucet and splashes cold water on his face, reveling in the refreshing feel of it. Louis opens his eyes and stares at his reflection in the mirror, takes in his sopping wet face and slightly-swollen cheekbone and he sighs again. _This is it._ He hears voices outside the bathroom and checks his watch. He's got fifteen minutes before he has to give his speech. Louis turns off the water and looks back in the mirror.

 

Except there's someone behind him.

 

He's leaning against the bathroom wall in a crisp black blazer with a patterned white shirt underneath. There's a white flower pinned to his lapel and a white handkerchief in his breast pocket. His hair is slightly quiffed, but it still falls to his shoulders in nice curls, his green eyes glinting under the bathroom light.

 

Louis turns around. Harry steps forward.

 

They stare at each other for a long while.

 

"Niall told me you'd be in here," Harry says quietly, taking one of Louis' hands. He intertwines their fingers and pauses. "I saw the interview, by the way. You didn't hide. You weren't scared to tell the world about who you are. I'm so proud of you, Louis, and so proud to walk into that banquet hall tonight with you by my side."

 

Harry moves closer and brushes Louis' swollen cheek with a feather touch. His eyes soften.

 

"I know he's your father," Harry whispers, "but he's wrong. What he did was wrong. What he said was wrong. You know that deep inside, Louis. Don't let it get you down, all right?"

 

"Mhm," Louis says distantly. He closes his eyes.

 

"Everyone's out there waiting for you," Harry leans in and his lips ghost Louis' neck. "Liam and Zayn and Niall and Barbara. Even my mum and Gemma came. They want to meet you after the banquet if you're not too busy. I know you've already been introduced, but there's been a slight change of situation since you last talked, and I think you'll find they're _much_ kinder than they were in the past."

 

Harry chuckles softly and kisses his skin, once, twice, a third time.

 

"I'm nervous," Louis murmurs abruptly. He looks into Harry's soft jade eyes. "Not just for the speech, but how people will react."

 

"It doesn't matter," Harry says firmly. "They don't matter. This isn't about them anyway, Louis. It's your night. Enjoy it for yourself."

 

Louis exhales and nods slowly. Harry is right. He doesn't have to think about any implications now. Tonight is about the actions, and tomorrow will be about the reactions. He has time to figure it out and deal with whatever comes up next, but for now, he has to enjoy himself. Louis will hear the words _Louis Tomlinson, the official succeeding CEO of Tomlinson Trading_ echoed around the banquet hall for the first time as five hundred people applaud him, the love of his life in the front row, cheering the loudest--

 

He feels a resigned smile tug at his lips.

 

"Thank you, Harry," he says steadily, squeezing his hand. "For all you do. You're the best thing to ever happen to me."

 

Harry leans in and kisses him softly, a sweet joy in his eyes. He smells like Louis' cologne, and that makes Louis' heart somersault.

 

"It's time to go now, Louis. The world is ready for you."

 

He steps back and opens the door for Louis. The lobby is empty now, but they can hear the sound of hundreds of people in the banquet hall. Louis swallows thickly and takes Harry's hand. Harry has good enough tact not to comment on how clammy Louis' palms are.

 

"Please," Louis says softly, "don't let go."

 

Harry squeezes his hand in response and they interlock fingers. The two bouncers outside of the door pretend not to notice anything as a loud voice booms from inside the hall.

 

" _Ladies and gentlemen,"_ the man says. " _Introducing Louis Tomlinson!"_

The door is pushed open and a dazzling array of camera flashes blind Louis. The cheers of five hundred people echo around the walls and bright music plays in the background. Louis feels himself go weak in the knees and his breathing is uneven and too fast. Everyone is on their feet now, their applause getting louder and louder--

 

And then the mood changes.

 

Louis has taken his first step down the carpeted walkway when he hears the first whisper. Harry squeezes his hand and Louis has to remind himself to keep his gaze forward and to keep moving, but it's hard to ignore the hiss spreading underneath the quickly-dissolving applause. Murmurings break out among the crowd and people stand up to get a better look.

 

Louis' eyes find his father at the head table.

 

Mark's eyes are cold and full of loathing. His face is a bit paler than usual, but he doesn't show shock like the rest of the executive board does. Mark presses his lips together and shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

 

Louis' mouth is dry. The hall is mostly quiet as he approaches the front table. He spots his friends nearby, all of them with glowing faces and proud smiles. They give him a thumbs-up when he catches their eye. Louis smiles weakly.

 

"I'll be right here if you need me," Harry murmurs as they stop. He gives Louis a quick hug. "Remember. Don't listen to anybody."

 

Louis nods as Harry takes his seat. The people around him stare shamelessly. His mother puts a hand on his leg and squeezes. Gemma watches Louis with a careful look in her eye.

 

Louis ascends the steps to the main table, uncomfortably aware of how bright the lights are here. The gazes of the dumbstruck executives make him a bit nervous and his father's own stoic glare makes his skin prickle, but Louis can do this. _He really can_.

 

He steps forward to the podium and clears his throat. Five hundred people stare back at him, completely silent. Louis could hear a pin drop if he concentrated hard enough, and that doesn't help with his shaking hands or racing heart, but he tells himself to ignore that. _Ignore it all_.

 

Louis finds Harry's face in the crowd and he lets out a deep, relaxing breath. Harry smiles.

 

"When I was first asked to give a speech tonight, I had in mind a generic, simple thank you where I would list off the people who got me to where I am," Louis starts slowly. He's surprised how calm he sounds. "It would be safe and very unmemorable. I sat down with a pen and a paper and I began thinking of the qualities that make someone successful, as was advised by my father. The usual things came to mind--drive, passion, dedication, hard work, ect. Which was all well and simple, I suppose, but when I reflected on who _I am_ , the list started to become _slightly_ different."

 

Someone coughs. Louis sees Grimshaw's sneering face in the front, arms folded across his chest. He sees his mum and his sisters in the VIP table, all their eyes fixed on him in interest. He sees Niall, beaming like he's just been given the best news of his life. He sees Liam, his hand intertwined with Zayn. And he sees Harry, the one who makes all this worth it, the one who turned Louis' life around one hundred and eighty-degrees.

 

He takes another deep breath. _For him._

"My defining characteristics have always been my daring and my unconventional mannerisms," Louis continues steadily. " _That's_ what has pushed me to my success. Some call it impulsiveness, some call it stupidity, some call it a sixth sense, but for me, it's just who I am. To be different is to be extraordinary, and to be extraordinary is to be brilliant, and that's what I began thinking about as I threw away my first draft of my speech and started with this one.

 

"Leadership is a responsibility, but leadership is a gift. Leadership is the opportunity to change the way people think, and I would like to do exactly that before you all leave tonight," Louis' voice rises and he feels his nerves dissipate. "Tonight, I stand here with a choice. To be different or to be ordinary. To be controversial or to be safe. To speak or to hide in the shadows. It's a fork in the road, and I am taking the first step towards the untraveled path, and I hope you all will follow me."

 

Louis pauses. There's a shift in the atmosphere of the room. People are listening more closely now, their gazes fixed on him. The cameras stop clicking madly. No one dares break the silence.

 

"In the last three months, I have been faced with a choice. To follow in my father's footsteps or dive into an unknown with a certain person known as Harry Styles," Louis keeps his eyes forward and tries to ignore the sudden intake of breath throughout the audience. "At first, I wanted the company. The company was everything I'd ever known. My job was my sole satisfaction, my reason to wake up in the morning, my sense of self-worth. I remember my father offering me the CEO position, contingent on the completion of a certain task, and I was convinced that agreeing to his deal would bring upon me the happiness I was missing at that point in my life. I signed my name that very day, in fact, and it started the journey that would end with me on standing in front of you on this podium, accepting the CEO appointment.

 

"But before any of that happened, I had a long road to travel, and as the months passed, I began to just how difficult the trek was becoming. To pick love or to pick success? It was a realization, a dawning, a discernment that quite literally changed my life, because I was finally faced with a choice I had to make by myself. My path was dividing. Two distinct trails were readily emerging--one leading to the CEO position and one leading to the unknown, and I had a choice. To betray Harry Styles or to befriend him."

 

Another hiss breaks in the audience. Mark sits a little straighter, his vein working furiously in his forehead. Confused whispers float in Louis' ears. He blinks and waits for them to die down.

 

"It was the ultimatum my father gave, and I made the pivotal choice--after weeks of conflict and stress--to follow the path leading to the unknown. Nothing was promised. Nothing was outlined. There was no certainty or security; I could've walked straight into a death trap. It sure felt like it some days," Louis adds, and he elicits a decent amount of laughter. "I chose Harry over the company, I chose to be _different,_ I chose to walk the unlit path. Robert Frost once said, "two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference." For me, that quote truly captures what that decision was like.

 

"Now, many of you are probably asking why my anecdote is relevant, which is valid," Louis' voice gets softer. "But tonight is a choice, much like the one I made three months ago. It is a choice to follow what is ordinary versus what is extraordinary. I challenge you all to take risks, to venture into the darkness, to put your faith in someone like me to lead _Tomlinson Trading_. I am the less traveled path, I am the unknown, I am the biggest variable in the equation to success. But there is a reward for the brave souls who take a risk. There is always the promise of something _more_ at the end of the road, and who knows--you could walk into the unknown and emerge here, where I am, standing on this podium as I accept my appointment as succeeding CEO, with the man who my father told me to betray sitting in the front row--now as the love of my life."

 

Louis takes a deep breath and looks into the crowd.

 

"I have diverged the path for you tonight. Now it is your choice whether you take the one less traveled by. I cannot make that decision, but I implore you to take a chance on the unknown-- because it really could make all the difference."

 

There's a moment of silence as his words ring in the air. Louis feels his heart tighten.

 

And then an explosive applause erupts in the hall--applause that shakes the ceiling and rattles the walls and makes Louis' ears ring. Everyone is on their feet, applauding heartily and Louis feels dizzy with happiness, with relief, with the feeling of accomplishment washing over him--

 

He finds Niall's face in the crowd first, his cheeks flushed as he whistles loudly. Liam and Zayn are next to him, both with ecstatic looks on their faces. He finds his mum and his sisters too, except his mum is crying into her hanker chief and Lottie is rolling her eyes as she claps loudly. The younger girls chant his name, their hair bows crooked and their eyes bright--

 

And then Louis finds Harry.

 

It feels like time freezes when he finally meets Harry's soft gaze. Harry isn't cheering like the rest--he's standing up, tears glittering in his eyes, an overwhelmed look on his face. He doesn't even act like he hears the rest of the audience. His mother gives him a hug and Gemma pats his shoulder, but Harry is looking star-stuck with wonder written in his soft, crooked smile. His gaze doesn't leave Louis and Louis feels as if his heart is bursting at the seams in the overwhelming love he feels for the man standing in front of him.

 

 _Louis is untouchable_.

 

[*]

 

In the weeks to come, Louis and Harry spend one evening curled up on the sofa, rewatching his speech with their bodies tangled together under the duvet. Harry cries again, (of course) and Louis tells him he's a shameless sap. _That_ makes Harry laugh through his tears, his green eyes glistening. He kisses Louis feverishly despite himself, and Louis thinks how it's been nearly five months and he still hasn't gotten used to the way Harry takes his breath away.

 

Of course, the days following the banquet aren't all cheery and Louis hits more rough patches than he's worth, but he's _finally_ happy. He's finally found something in his life that means more than what others think of him or even what his father thinks of him. He's found something that's more fulfilling than anything his job could ever give him, and as Louis lays in the darkness that night with a sleeping Harry next to him, combing his fingers through Harry's curls, Louis thinks this is the only thing he's ever wanted, really. No company, no title, no position of power could come close to making him as happy as Harry does.

 

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood," Louis whispers into the darkness, pressing a kiss to Harry's temple. Harry doesn't stir. "I took the one less traveled by."

 

He drops his lips to Harry's forehead, watching the way his mouth quirks upward in his sleep.

 

'" _And you have made all the difference."_


End file.
